Mastermind Misery
by SketchyxNinja
Summary: In the midst of investigating a blackout, Bruce meets a woman whose past is much darker than his own. He finds hope and despair in her and the biggest challenge he's ever faced. With the Joker on the loose, Bruce is ready to hang up the mask and say goodbye to Batman but when a new criminal visits Gotham, it's enough for the caped crusader to get back on his feet. HIATUS
1. On My Own

**Mastermind Misery**

**by NinjaxSketcheartx  
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><p><em>Chapter I: On My Own<em>

_The mahogany door to the bedroom barely creaked when it opened as Bruce peaked in. There was no point in being quiet, knowing that she could hear him any way. The room was fairly lit by a beam of white light that brightened the room where he didn't find her reclined on the wooden chair with her feet on the desk, her earphones blasting all the way. Or lounging on the bed where she usually sang in that melodic voice. The sheets on the bed were made with no trace of it being occupied, and the chair was tucked neatly under the desk. If the alcove wasn't open, revealing a starless, dark sky and letting in a cool breeze, he probably wouldn't have noticed the small figure concealing herself within the shadows._

_Bruce took a couple of steps forward but stopped halfway. The night when he had met her, she had that same expression. It was void and lost, lacking the warmth and compassion she generally radiated. Her skin glowed a ghostly white as the beam of light touched her bare flesh. Her hunched form had her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees but it was her eyes that enthralled him. He didn't recognize it when he had met her but he was sure there was something there in her eyes that night until it vanished.  
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_He wondered if this was how he looked on the day of his parents funeral. Did Alfred feel like this when he had seen Bruce staring blankly out the window of the Manor's front yard? Did he feel a wave of responsibility and protectiveness like how Bruce felt right now? He had never seen someone so down before besides himself, he could almost feel her grief._

_She buried her face against her legs, her hair forming a curtain around her face, refusing to acknowledge him. He felt his heartbeat increase and the anxiety building up in mere seconds. The silence was killing him. He felt helpless; helpless for not comprehending what she was going through all these years, and that he was the cause of it. Shame and guilt washed over him as his eyes fell to the floor. _

_Finally, she glanced up. Her eyes looked right though him, the red from her cheeks were gone, her sparkly eyes that she had whenever she got excited, and the lively energy inside her was completely drained. He was so focused on her languish look, he didn't notice that she was only clothed in a t-shirt and undergarment. Her eyes were puffy, still dripping tears and signaled that she was fearful but not of him._

_She was afraid of what was going to happen._

_At one point, he got the impression that she was a nuisance, a pest that just wanted his attention but gradually he came to care for her the same way she did. Knowing what he knew now made him want to wrap his arms around her and protect her and that's exactly what he did: what he was going to do. She looked back down, avoiding eye contact with him as she didn't react to his proximity. He kissed the top of her head, soothing her, seeing a flash of pain wash over her face and another tear roll down as he rubbed her shoulder._

_Bruce found his answer. He wasn't about to lose someone he loved. Not again._

**)-(-)-(**

**_Last month..._**

Another strong gust of wind swept by, with the gleam of the cool full moon and the faint sirens of the police. Snowflakes descended in late October, the muffled disquieted voices spoke only in the dark corners of the city. The misty air and layers of snow covered the rooftops and streets, giving off an eerie appearance. Midnight struck, and so did its criminals. Darkness engulfed most of Gotham City, with the exception of the square lights on skyscrapers that protruded and street lamps, providing the only light source.

The Narrows could only be described in one word; destruction. It was an unsuccessful and uncivilized place to dwell in, with flagrant criminals lurking in the shadows. Smoke poured to the surface giving a dangerous aura surrounding the city. The buildings looked old and damaged holding a background that looked daunting. A derelict and catastrophic environment that was beyond all hope of salvation.

It felt like a lifetime ago but Bruce Wayne could remember that night like it was yesterday. The night where it all began, the night that his parents were murdered. Such a tragedy could do wonders to a man, and he happened to catch a glimpse of something that changed his life on that haunting night. Bruce searched in all the shadows, seeking for his hidden potential; the power to channel his anger and everlasting grief towards the criminals in an act of justice and fortitude. If not for the Joker's reign of terror, Dent would be cleaning up the streets, bringing back prosperity and harmony from this god forsaken, crime infested city. Bruce was willing to leave Gotham in the hands of a hero like Harvey. A hero with a face.

And because of that mad clown Rachel was gone... Rachel; who believed Gotham could be saved one at a time. Beautiful, intelligent, and assertive Rachel...blown to smithereens. Funny, he would hand over the very place he grew up in on the dime, just for her. Yet wasn't his main goal was to save the grieving city altogether? Gradually, Batman was willing to die in the line of duty to save Gotham from destroying itself.

If only the citizens of Gotham could see that that was all Batman ever wanted.

A dark silhouette on top of Gotham's one of many tall towers, looked up from his crouched position. The figure's hazel eyes scanned the area, his bulky physique vaguely visible in the shadows. Years of peace with no sign from Batman was considered too quiet, and questionable to ever occur. Of course, he didn't leave without reminding people he was going to return one day. He controlled the Tumblr inside the Bunker like it was some sort of remote control without anyone actually getting a visual of the caped crusader. While others believed he finally retired after turning into a cold-blooded, cop killing murderer.

Several rumors spread that Bruce didn't find so suitable or appropriate. He was anticipating that they'd say the Batman was officially killed, but word went out that he was now leading his own mob in secrecy. His disappearance didn't help lessen that theory, neither did the "copy-bats." Crumpled and torn newspapers lay in heaps in his bedroom almost everyday, their contents were just unbearable and sickening. But he was done recovering from his "break" from Bane, and he was fully healed to make up for lost time.

Perplexed, the breath was knocked out of him as he watched the lights in Gotham City go out.

**Blackout.**

Bruce couldn't remember a single blackout happening in Gotham, as poor and run-down as it may be. A chorus of complaints and screams erupted in a matter of seconds. He slowly made his way to the ledge of the roof, the snow crunching underneath his black boots and waited for a decent ten minutes for things to renormalize.

"Alfred," He spoke into the communicator plugged into his mask but his loyal butler's quick reply did not come. He was only welcomed by the static noise so he concluded that the power outage must have reached the Bunker. The backup generator should have been working unless that was taken out as well. He wondered how Alfred was handling with the pitch black while Bruce was accustomed to it; being his greatest ally.

The conductor had been long exposed in this time of the day. His assumptions made it clear that someone set off a nuclear EMP but whether Bruce's calculations were right or he was just being stubborn, he was absolutely sure an NEMP couldn't possibly reach the Bunker. After all, it functioned just fine underground, something that both he and Alfred found impressive yet confusing. As far as he knew, heavy damage to the receiver and main power supplies were in contact but he double checked that they were provided effective protection in case something like this were to happen. But to be damaged his equipment needed to be connected to a fairly long unprotected and exposed conductor in order for enough voltage to be induced to cause a breakdown, and his communicator as well as his computer should have been destroyed. Even if this were true, the backup generator should be sufficiently effective at this point.

"Master... Are you-" Alfred's English accented voice was cut off by static as Bruce waited patiently. Knowing that he was safe, he silently thanked the backup generator for allowing him to know of his butler's predicament.

At first, Bruce didn't see the need to have a backup that almost possessed more power than Gotham. Let alone he didn't understand why it had more energy than the actual on. Lucius had said the grid was designed to withstand anything, even an EMP but he was considering whether this blackout wasn't just happening in Gotham. As far as his eye could see, it looked it effected a large range that stretched past the limits of Gotham. A regular city buster EMP roughly reaches 30 miles but maybe this was affecting the entire state. He'd hear all about it tomorrow on the news but for now he'd investigate.

But if the EMP was caused here then who, pray tell, would have the means to cause it, or have the resources to acquire such technology?

His first guess wouldn't surprise him but he knew that by standing on a rooftop while boring a hole through the city's landscape wouldn't get him anywhere. Ignoring the noises coming from inside the house, he jumped to another rooftop making his way to Arkham Asylum.

Seven years ago, around the same time Bane paralyzed him, the Joker managed to escape Arkham. These two incidents were too precise and coincidental, it wouldn't surprise him if the Joker was in league with Bane but that didn't make things less difficult. His new partner in crime, was Arkham's former psychologist and notably the Joker's therapist, Harleen Quinzel had taken a peculiar interest in the Joker's case before becoming madly obsessed with him altogether. The two have managed to stay under radar and have not come out of their hiding ever since. But from the madman's previous affairs, it only meant that he was planning something big.

Commissioner James Gordon's surrogate daughter, Barbara, was the Joker's first victim after his escape. Miraculously, she survived after being critically shot in the abdomen but it cost her legs in the process, unfortunately. And from what Bruce searched up, the Joker had inadvertently crippled Washington DC's one and only Batgirl. Thanks to Alfred, he convinced Bruce to work with the former heroine, whom is know known as Oracle. She wasn't all bad, but it took time getting used to being around someone else other than Alfred. And considering that they were both paralyzed, not much work around Gotham was done, at least it only affected on how it was done rather than why.

The young woman was intelligent, strong and earnest. The wheelchair she, herself, created was attached to her spine in order to act accordingly to whatever she commanded with a simple thought. Barbara was brilliant, a skilled fighter and an expert hacker. Being in a wheelchair didn't affect anything she did, no, it made her better.

Any activity involving the Joker who didn't instigate anything while he was gone just pleased Bruce. His temporary paralysis might be the reason why the Joker or Bane didn't expose themselves. His suspicion told him that they were plotting something for both Gotham and Batman. As the Joker would have put it, he wouldn't want the Batman to be "left out."

On the other hand, Alfred had called the best surgeons in the world where his top priority was coming up with a story that would fit a billionaire like Bruce Wayne breaking his own spine. This was the least of Bruce's worries as he seemingly fell into a state of depression for a long period of time. Even the dry and sarcastic statements Alfred occasionally made didn't crack a smile, sometimes not even a reply, from Bruce.

So after seven long years, it felt good to be back in his suit, instead of sitting behind a computer in the Bunker monitoring Gotham and informing Gordon, and listening to Alfred's perpetual witty remarks. Of course, his confidant was hesitant in permitting Bruce to don the suit after such a long time. This however, didn't stop him.

As for Bane, he wasn't one to underestimate. In retrospect, Bruce had never come across someone who could sweep him off his feet and get under his skin both emotionally and physically. No one - with Ra's al Ghul being an exception - had ever fought with him on equal terms where they both were evenly matched and managed to actually defeat the Batman. He discovered his identity within a full year, tortured and sabotaged him on the murky streets in plain sight, leaving a shell-shocked and depressed Bruce. The Joker was different, he held a knife to his throat, hit him on the head with a crowbar but he was nowhere near trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat. He was just a demented mastermind with charisma and a lifetime supply of explosives.

A cough interrupted Batman's thoughts. Strangely, he realized that only the streetlamps were lit and that it stopped snowing. He was already on the building across from Arkham and the communicator was still producing static noise with no clear response from Alfred. Truthfully, he didn't know why he came here. The madman didn't attempt to reveal himself, just yet. But Bruce wasn't about to let his guard down. It was one of the many mistakes he made that cost many lives of innocent people.

His eyes scanned the area trying to locate from where the cough came from. The flickering light from a lamppost revealed a young woman rounding the corner of a building, away from Batman's sight. Either that woman was _really, really stupid,_ or she was new in Gotham.

He sighed before jumping to the building adjacent where the woman was just crossing the street. Her chin was tucked in with her slender shoulders hunched, her hands in her beige coat, letting her long dark hair cascade freely behind her. Based on her body language, she was trying not to attract attention but that was a hard thing to do. Being as she was the only person who had the audacity to walk at night in the Narrows. And just on cue, two thugs appeared from the alleyway closest to her.

"Hey, cutie. You lost?" The shabby man with the hoodie over his bearded face asked mockingly. He licked his lips, taking in her small physique, lingering on her chest where her large bosom was tightened under her coat. "We can show you 'round."

The young lady briefly glanced up before looking back down. "No, thank you." She replied formally, her face void of any emotion. She didn't stop and hurriedly walked past them, the heel of her boot tapping against the pavement.

"_Aww_, don't be like that." The other one called out.

By this time, Bruce had landed on the sidewalk across from them, but another pair of thugs appeared in front of her as the prowlers circled her. She made the mistake of stopping and glared at the men around her.

_Wrong move,_ Bruce thought. _Run!_ He reached in his belt for a batarang. He never used the weapon on attacking people unless it was completely necessary. It's primary usage was only meant to intimidate.

From Batman's angle, he couldn't tell who attacked but pretty soon one of the thugs grunted and reeled backwards, flailing his arms as he lost his balance. Astonished, his hand stayed poised in the air with batarang in hand, ready to use it. The dark haired lady stood in a typical fighting stance, arms raised guarding her face with long legs spreaded. He noticed that she was wearing a mini-skirt, something that wasn't suitable in this kind of weather or safe

in this kind of city. Skirts attracted rapists like magnets just like these four hooligans.

"What the-?" the thug with the beanie didn't get to finish his sentence as she uppercutted him. He fell down hard as she quickly spun around and raised her right leg to hit the blonde thug's chest before grabbing their leader by the shoulders and connected his head with her bare knee. The fourth one was wise enough to go running.

"_Ow!"_ The woman screeched and grabbed her knee, balancing on one foot. "Ow! That _hurt!"_

Their attention was diverted to the woman so they didn't notice Batman quietly advancing towards them, the dark cape ruffling behind him. The three thugs weren't done yet as they rose to their feet, surprised to see a woman fight back. At least, some people were willing to defend themselves instead of cowering in fear. The thugs looked at one another, as the lady waited for one of them to make a move. One thug, their leader with the overgrown beard, nodded at blondie before they charged at her.

One aimed for her head but she ducked and jabbed him in the chest. She gasped as another thug grabbed her wrists and swiftly moved behind her, pinning his arm against her neck. "If you know what's good for you, you'd let me go!" She managed to choke out. Bruce threw the batarang at the streetlight nearest to them, knowing that this would be a great time to intervene. They all stopped once the lights went out, feeling a change in the air.

"_He's_ here!" One croaked out, shaking in his boots.

"I thought he was _dead._" Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bared his teeth as his throat let out a low growl before he detached himself from the shadows.

The bearded one stayed behind, still gripping the woman as she cried for help. The ashy blonde thug punched at Bruce but he side stepped and bought down his elbow on his arm before flipping him over. The other one attacked from behind but Bruce spun around, landing a kick in his abdomen before grabbing the back of his head and bashing it on the brick building. He yelped before crumpling down next to his buddy.

"Back from the fucking dead, Batman?" The leader nervously looked around, with only the streetlight from across being his only guide. _Wasn't he there just a second ago?_ He tightened his hold on the young woman's neck, bringing down his right hand to grope her breast. She gasped and squirmed, trying to break free but he was strong. She saw an opening and dug her heel into his foot but his hold only tightened. Then to her horror, he pulled out a knife.

"_Shh_, be a good girl and I'll play _nice."_ She shivered at his disgusting tone, but she could hear the strain in his voice from the impact of her heel. He smelled like sewer and his breath wanted to make her puke. The thug seemed to forget that the caped crusader was still watching. Then a hard chop hit him in the back of his neck and the young lady pulled away just in time before he fell down hard, face first.

She was breathing heavily but she didn't fall down to her knees and start weeping. Although, she did tremble and touch her neck, and cover her chest protectively. Her face was easier to make out now that he was on ground level. She was still pretty young, maybe in her early twenties with a heart shaped face and round cheeks. She was Asian, according to her straight ebony hair that seemed to reach to her wide hips but her grayish-blue eyes and fair white skin said she was Caucasian.

Batman turned to leave, knowing that there was important matters to be dealt with but her soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "Hey! Wait!"

He craned his neck, a little confused as to how she could hear him as Batman barely left an audible noise when leaving. He didn't fully turn around but there was something..._different_ about her eyes. The lamppost was dim and it was still dark, and her head was slightly down so he didn't really get a clear view but there was something there. _"What?"_ He asked, harshly.

Her face fell a little at his response, brushing off her knees and standing to her full five foot height. "I just wanted to thank you. It was a brave thing you did back there." She addressed him not stuttering once like most people would after being in a dangerous situation.

He blinked, trying to control the surprise that showed on his face. His second guess about whether she was really stupid or she was just new in Gotham was answered. Although, he sincerely appreciated the gratitude, unlike the cops but she didn't know the fact that he supposedly killed five people including the symbol of hope in Gotham. The Batman was meant to be feared, no longer admired or respected by Gotham's citizens. He was a fugitive; an _outlaw_. And again, it was dark so she really couldn't see him.

She chuckled, giving him a heartwarming smile that reached her eyes, which seemed to turn back to normal from whatever previous condition it was. "You were like a hero, charging in to save the girl."

"I'm no hero." Batman easily replied. Two steps was all it took for her to get a good view of him. She blinked, her smile vanished and instantly paled at the sight of him.

In a split second, her demeanor changed when she cocked her head, her blue eyes unyielding while looking him up and down. "Well, then who are you?"

He had to give her credit, she was completely calm about the situation. It took him a few seconds to reply, trying to think of something that will throw her off or disinterest her. He recalled the time when Rachel first met Batman and how it mirrored with this woman. They both deliberately asked who he was except Rachel was more cautious and alert, while this one was friendly and naive and, she fought three thugs on her own with her bare fists, not a purse or a taser. Rachel was meant to be killed whilst this young woman was about to get raped.

"No one special." He answered in his raspy tone.

Her expression changed to captivated and curious, bringing a hand up under her chin. "Anyway, thanks again for saving my skin. The way you showed up and fought those guys off. It was a pretty cool thing to watch."

Not one person in his life had nonchalantly talked to him when he was in the bat suit, not without getting startled by his abrupt appearances and mysterious presence except for the Joker. At least the young lady wasn't insane. She seemed to display no hint of fear in her voice or eyes and he began contemplating whether she _was_ really stupid. A smile graced her features as she brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear, showing Bruce a cut on her forearm. The knife must have went through her coat and showed a fine line of blood oozing down her limb, glistening.

"Your arm."

"Hmm?" She raised the other arm to examine it but her mouth made an "O" shape with her mouth when her eyes lay on the right one. "Oh, that's gonna leave a mark."

_It already did,_ Bruce thought dryly. He sighed, knowing that this was going to be his problem. "Let me see."

She waved both her arms in protest. "Oh no, it's fine. My friend is really good at stitching and besides it's just a scratch, right?" Bruce didn't answer. He examined her face, seeing that she was lying. "Thanks for the concern though, but I outta get going. My friend is probably-" She gasped as something, or someone, grabbed her from behind. Batman inwardly cursed for his lack of awareness but his equipment was still down so he needed to rely on his instincts._ Have seven years of rest really caught up with him?_

"_Come on!_" He heard an unfamiliar voice hiss in the dark. A female's voice.

"Ow! Don't be so rough! Thanks again, mister!" Bruce didn't even move from where she left him, watching whoever had grabbed her run further away from his position underneath the lamppost. From the back of their heads, he could see that whoever had grabbed her had short black hair and was clad in what looked like a ninja outfit. A dark cape flapped furiously behind her and revealed plain black clothing with white armor on her shoulders and legs, and a yellow utility belt. The ninja glanced over her shoulder revealing a black mask that covered her nose and mouth with a pair of dark brown eyes that glared venomously at Batman. The young lady was being pulled alongside her, waving and smiling brightly at him before the two disappeared across the street.

**)-(-)-(**

"You know, that was completely unnecessary, Cassie."

Cassandra kept running, dragging her friend to an abandoned alley and releasing the tight grip on her upper arm. She glanced around to make sure they were alone and if the Batman hadn't followed them. She took off her mask, taking out a small notepad attached to her belt before facing her friend. Her pen clicked and she scribbled down, _'Oh sure, it wasn't. Do you have any idea who that was?'_ She practically shoved the little notebook in her friend's face when she was done.

"The tall, dark guy with pointy ears? Or are you talking about one the thugs?"

'_Who do you think?'_ Her friend pouted at the sarcasm written on the paper. Cassandra rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friend's ignorance and wrote, _'The tall, dark pointy eared guy is Batman. The guy who killed the famous District Attorney. He could've killed you, as well!'_

"Oh! So he's a vigilante like you?" She asked enthusiastically, her blue eyes brightening. She was always fascinated by Cassandra's quests on "bettering the world" even if what she did was something small like catching a purse thief. She, herself, had always been there tending her wounds and, in her view, acting like a guidance to her. Of course, they didn't stick in one place forever, mainly because one person or two found out her identity but that didn't stop them. Cassie's wonderful ability to read people's movements is what got both of them out of most situations, and out of the country. "Cool, now you have someone to help you, right?"

Cass scowled, the disgust in her expression seemed to mean nothing to her friend. She sighed, running a gloved hand through her hair. Her pen scratched against the paper, _'Wrong! You're missing the whole point. He used to be a hero but now he's a good guy gone bad.'_

"So?" Her friend looked at her as if it were no big deal and crossed her arms. Cassandra threw her hands in the air, and silently sweared that sometimes her friend was hopelessly careless. "He saved me. Why would he want to kill an innocent girl walking around the streets when he just saved her? Besides, if he was a hero then why would he go off and kill someone?"

_'Well, he looks like he's capable, don't you think?'_ She countered, raising an eyebrow. There was no denying it, even she would perceive that.

"Hmm, I guess_,"_ She admitted, carrying her elbow and scratching her chin. A mischievous smile then crept onto her face. _Oh boy, here we go,_ Cassandra thought. "But he must have a pretty good reason for doing so. I mean, there _are_ reasons for everything, right?"

At this, Cass frowned. _Why was she always right?_ Cassandra was deprived of speech since birth and had trouble speaking but now she was fluent thanks to her friend. They weren't at the stage of speaking hence why she carries the notepad. Cassie would teach her the technique and skills in martial arts and her friend would teach her proper english. It was a win for win. _'No argument there.'_ She stated, defeated.

She gave a satisfied smile and nodded. "It's nice to see things from my view, right?" Cassandra rolled her eyes at her smugness. Her long-haired companion paused then questioned. "How did you learn so much when we just got here anyway?"

Cassie snorted and mimicked her friend's stance. '_Well, one he's become one of most wanted criminals since he killed five people including Harvey Dent.'_ She retorted, then she set her jaw. _'But I'm serious, Leigh. You should have told me you were leaving, or at least you could have been more careful. Haven't I taught you anything?'_ Leigh opened her mouth to answer that but she cut her off. _'This city isn't safe. We should leave. Now.'_

"No! We just got here and I told you, we came here to see my uncle."

There was no arguing with Leigh. Once you told her not to do something, she will do it anyway. She was that stubborn; there was no telling her otherwise. Then it was hard to get mad at her afterwards because she always made her point even if what she did was considered reckless. She had to admit though, Leigh knew what was best for herself as well as others. And after all they've been through, Cassandra couldn't just leave her.

A few seconds of deep silence stretched before either of them spoke. "I could have prevented this." Cassandra whispered. Her head dropped down, looking pointedly at her friend's arm, ashamed of failing to protect her best friend.

Leigh was speechless. If it weren't for the argument they found themselves in, she would have been jumping with joy at her sentence. _Her first sentence._ She pronounced it fluently, just like any other person compared to a foreigner. Her one word sentences bothered her to the point where she became paranoid over the thought that Cassandra sometimes lied to her.

And thanks to the adrenaline rush, Leigh didn't even feel her arm get slashed by the knife. "Hey," she said, softly. "I'm fine, alright and we just got here, remember? You know better than anyone that this should heal in no time, and its not your fault." Leigh said confidently and bended down to get in her view. Cassandra was only a year younger than her but she was a few inches taller. She tilted her head and grinned, trying to cheer her up.

_'Friends look out for each other.'_ Cass wrote sadly, avoiding eye contact with her. _'I thought you had things under control but I saw that you were _scared_.'_

Leigh just shook her head, and dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. "Can't always become dependent, right?"

Cassandra's brown eyes stared at her blue orbs. She opened her mouth then closed it, knowing that Leigh wouldn't discuss this any further. She looked up at the dark sky, shaking her head and let out a heavy sigh. She flipped through a few pages before falling upon one where it said, _'What am I gonna do with you, L.A.P?'_

"Hey! " Her friend exclaimed, giving Cass a punch to her shoulder which she reflexively dodged. "You know I hate that nickname!"

"I know." The two girls laughed on the vacant sidewalk and started walking, side by side. Cassandra smirked as they began making their way to the hotel. The two girls walked in comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts.

"Hey, you said your first sentence! Not to mention you learned _come on_, and _I know_!" Leigh burst out. She grinned, seeing her friend practically jump up and down. "This is really good progress."

"I know."

"I'm so proud of you!" Leigh exclaimed, giving her a hug. "Hey, aren't you cold in that thing?" she asked, looking over her friend's attire. Traveling for nine years, she used this outfit whenever she did her vigilante business but where ever they went they never came across someplace cold. "You must be freezing in this weather!"

She raised her eyebrow at her. _'Look who's talking, miss mini skirt.'_ Leigh ignored that. Cass knew she often wore skirts, but surprisingly she wasn't cold at all. The fur inside her coat was providing her enough warmth for walking in a temperature of twenty degrees and two inches of snow. She changed the subject when she scribbled, _'Where does your uncle work, again?'_

"I thought I told you."

Cassandra thought back to when she did but couldn't remember. The first and last time Leigh came to Gotham was when she was eight and her uncle's boss was away for whatever reason so there was no problem in staying in his boss's luxurious mansion. So long as the owner didn't know anything about it. After returning home, she had met her new neighbor, Cassandra and rambled on about her life to her while she silently listened, still being a mute at the time. _'That was a long time ago.'_

Leigh rolled her eyes. Cassie was always one to forget about the little details. "He works for Bruce Wayne, unless you haven't heard of him."

**)-(-)-(**

Something inside Bruce stirred, making him decide that he would not follow them but he would have to keep a eye out for that female ninja. It bothered him a little that her outfit slightly resembled his. Another copycat...but a ninja version? It was ludicrous but he did learn Ninjitsu, so most likely. Then again, it was Halloween. Nothing but amateurs trying to be in the spotlight. But the way that ninja's costume looked natural made him uncertain. He retrieved his grapnel gun and shot it to the nearest roof, propelling him upwards as he safely landed. He soon heard the familiar wail of a police sirens and flashing red and blue lights close by and was glad that he had good timing unless, of course, they were looking for him.

"Master Wayne?" The voice of his butler came to his ear. His tone sounded worried, and anxious but it was swept by the levelheadedness of a butler. Simultaneously, like someone had flipped a switch, the lights in Gotham went back on. Behind the mask, Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," Bruce replied, letting out a sigh of relief to hear his butler's familiar voice. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, sir. For a second there, I almost thought I was going blind." He stated, wryly.

Bruce scoffed at his comment. "Where's the location pinpointing the source of the blackout?"

"Well, the police already have a lead." Alfred paused, he could hear him typing something on the computer. "It came from the Art Institute of Gotham. Do you need the Pod, sir?"

He momentarily slowed to a stop, looking at the police car that made a sharp turn. _If Alfred sent the Pod it would only attract unwanted attention. It would be safer to stick to the rooftops. Besides, it's not like I can just cruise right in._ "No"

"Very good, sir. I assume, you're already on your way...on foot." He emphasized the last two words as Bruce groaned in frustration. "And please come back quick. This is the only time I will allow you to sleep past three. I'm sure you don't want to miss the opening of the re-built Manor, _and_ the ceremony celebrating Mr. Dent's reputation." He reminded him, pragmatically.

"Yes, we've already established that. No need for reminders." His butler's confirmation didn't come, and he didn't wait for one. Bruce's jaw tightened, his feet was taking him to the institute but his mind was miles and miles away. Eight years it's been since he's seen the glory of the Wayne Manor and just as he promised, he built it back brick by brick. Even though he didn't literally reconstructed the Manor for the past eight years, it was standing high and mighty in the Palisades, waiting for its owner. Last week, Alfred and him returned to the cave to set up the arrangements and get the cave back up and running, ready for anything.

Now that it hit Bruce, he wondered how this would all end. What Dent said about Batman wanting someone to take up his mantle came back into consideration. He certainly didn't want to do this for the rest of his life but the second he hangs up the mask and cape, all hell will break loose. There wouldn't be a Gotham to save, not without someone protecting it. He didn't want to be guarding Gotham as a masked vigilante for another decade or so. What will happen after he retires? Was there someone out there who was just as passionate, hardworking and dedicated like Dent, Gordon, or Batman? Pondering on it when there were things that needed to be done, didn't answer his question or make it any easier.

He shook off his thoughts and tried to keep up with the police cruisers that were speeding down to midtown. He regretted that he didn't bring the Pod with him and took out his grappling gun, launching him to the next building. He gripped the ledge and pulled himself up. The snow didn't help quiet Bruce's footsteps against the rooftop but he wasn't really concerned about stealth right now. He used to have a hard time moving around, whether it was his back or just moving in general. He used a cane to support his back and told the press that he bought one so he could look sophisticated and superior.

Now, why would the Art Institute of Gotham possibly be the cause of such a major blackout? More importantly, how could the GCPD figure out the exact location of where the blackout was caused? His thoughts lead him to Barbara but if she warn them, then why didn't she contact him first? Being the Batman, he needed to be two steps ahead of everyone.

The cruisers stopped and Batman halted his jog and crouched on the parapet, the darkness covering him and squinted his eyes. It bothered him that the police arrived earlier than him. They seemed to have everything here under control much to Bruce's dismay. Being one step ahead of everyone was getting harder especially since he was older and that he'd been out of action for quite awhile. Alfred jokingly stated that both of them were getting old.

Bruce seemed to wince, thinking about the older man's comment. Exactly how old was Alfred? He knew his confidant had about one or two decades left before he'd... Bruce couldn't think of it. Alfred...dead and gone. He'd be truly lonely, then. How would he cope, knowing that everyone he knew and truly cared about was gone?

His absentminded pondering was another thing that seemed to be getting in the way of tonight. He immediately spotted Gordon exiting the institute, with a man next to him whose gloved hands were handcuffed. He looked like he was in his late twenties. His dark blue clothing and black mask that was tied around his head made him appear like a burglar. One of the officers he recognized as Harvey Bullock, was holding what looked like to be a wooden staff with a gold metal stylized "C" on top of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi! Thank you if you clicked on this story! This is my first fanfic, so go easy on me.**

**This isn't your average story. So don't expect any sappy love or any cliche stuff**. **I already have an idea on what's going to happen.**

**So I thought if I told you that THIS IS A CROSSOVER in the beginning you wouldn't be interested. But don't worry it will mainly focus on Bruce. There are reasons why I did not put this in the crossover section, mainly because no one was reading it ._. To be honest, I'm actually surprised no one's thought of this before, so I'll take advantage of this opportunity.**

**This is not a Bruce/OC story in case your wondering. **

**Leigh is no Mary-sue. If anybody has played Dissidia 012; the character, Tifa Lockhart uses the quote that Leigh states about Batman being a hero. She even resembles her a bit.**

**Review please! Tell me what you think even if its critical or harsh. And please stay tuned for the next chapter! =D  
><strong>


	2. Alternate Dimension

_Chapter II: Alternate Dimension_

...

_...I didn't know how to comprehend with the situation I found myself in. My world, everything I knew and believed in, is it all a lie? An illusion? Or am I going mad? One minute, I'm a raccoon - yes, I said it, a _**raccoon**_ - with my gang of thieves and then the next I'm not. The minute I went through that portal, everything changed. When I got a good look at my face, it was _different. I was different.

_No, the second I laid my eyes on Neyla standing - **breathing** - in the room, that's when everything just went wrong. Why was it that every one of my enemies managed to rise back from the ashes and take revenge on me and my gang? Especially when they were suppose to be _dead?_ We've taken down Clock-La ten years ago, but somehow she survived._

_Nevertheless, I was dragged here, wherever here was anyway. Bentley and Murray couldn't make it past Dr. M despite their efforts. I wasn't surprised, relieved actually, to find myself being surrounded by cops. Being arrested was a different story._

_I don't know where I am, or when my gang is coming to get me but I do know that I am never going to look at the world the same way again._

**)-(-)-(**

An older cop with spectacles and a mustache, who one of the other cops called Gordon, had escorted him to one of the cruisers. Handcuffs were easy to pick lock but Sly Cooper had the sense that it wasn't a smart idea to just take it off and bolt. Not that there were so many cops surrounding him, or that he didn't have a safehouse or a plan B but he was still shocked to the point where he wasn't really thinking straight.

Every pair of eyes watched him curiously or carefully. With Gordon leading him, he spared them no attention and trudged through the snow. He needed to get their guards down but most of the police officers were men and he knew that they had no clue who he was. Even if he gave them his name, they'd get no information background about him. He was, indeed, notorious around the globe and if they couldn't recognize him, then at least Sly would have a huge advantage.

Being a master thief had its perks, and since he returned to the life of crime just last week, every cop in the entire world would've been on the look out for him. But he assumed that the portal he went through must have sent him to another world. One that was very similiar to his except none of the species here were animals. It was as crazy as it sounded, but right now it was the only logical explanation he could make. And if his reliable partner in crime, Bentley, were here he'd agree with him. If Murray were here, he'd beat the crap out of every cop.

It was refreshing to know that cops existed in this world. Of course, what's the fun in stealing without someone there to chase you around blazing bullets at you? Although, they had the upperhand because this world was their territory. Sly was outnumbered and out of options. But not out of time.

He gulped, feeling the pit of his stomach drop, replaying what recently happened in the short two hours. His gang gathered at the Art Institute of Chicago, on the verge of retreiving their lone female member, Penelope, in the hidden basement. After that...well, Sly was having a hard time swallowing the fact that his former enemy, Neyla, was alive. The Cooper Gang had last seen Clock-La, a decade ago in Paris after they defeated her.

But what he didn't understand was why Steven would betray them. Sly, Bentley and Murray kept a close eye on him though. He's not exactly the type of guy who'd strike off as unsuspicious. But Sly wasn't at all surprised when he turned his backs on them and lead them straight into a trap, like how Neyla did. Sly frowned. Evading the cops was something they were prepared and capable of accomplishing, and Sly knew how they operated, previously being a cop himself. Thinking about that selfish, backstabbing, whip wielding English feline, only gave him and his best friends more the reason to be privy around Steven.

Sly's jaw clenched and his fists curled tightly, pressing his nails against his palm. Neyla was the whole reason why his best friend, Bentley was in a wheelchair and why Murray had gone abroad without his two pals. The three were inseparable since they met in the orphanage so it was a tough year for all of them. One that Sly didn't want to repeat by himself.

Back to the discussion before, the fact that Steven didn't talk about any family members, didn't regularly bonded with the Cooper Gang for a short five days, and that he kept giving Sly that look, hinted that he was one of those Cooper-hating gangs. He harbored the look of pure hatred in his intense black eyes that mirrored Clockwerk's in so many ways. But he said he knew where Penelope was taken, however he didn't elaborate on how he acquired such information. And after seeing Bentley's devastated expression, he chose to trust the enigmatic Steven and pray to God he wouldn't betray them. Bentley made sure to do a background check on him but he only found out that he was once personally associated with a man named Henri Ducard. Someone they couldn't get that much info on.

But what really got him perplexed was _this._ When he had went through the portal in that basment; he had changed. One second he was a raccoon sporting gray fur and a striped tail, and the next he was..._different._ Not that he was a narcissist, but whatever he was at least he still retained the handsome features he inherited from his father.

But the second he looked in the mirror that Neyla provided, he looked different. His fur changed to a light peach color - and here's the thing, he no longer had fur or a snout - and his nose wasn't black but rather blended in with the peach. The dark area around his eyes formed into a mask that was tied around his head making him look somewhat like a raccoon. His irises remained the color of brownish-gold, and he still had dimples. Under his blue cap, his hair remained a silver, grayish color that resembled his fur. His fur always seemed to warm him in cold temperatures. And right now, he didn't even shiver from the strong currents that blew at his face. As far as his clothes went, he didn't remember putting on gray pants but at least the red pouch on his leg didn't disappear. The long sleeve blue shirt, and knee length blue boots, that his father used to wear still fit him and his belt with the Cooper logo was still there.

Sly still had his keen hearing where his ear would ocassionally twitch at the lightest of sounds, but not attaining his physical appearance as an animal, his ear didn't so much as twitch. His eyes still saw through the darkest of shadows. After all, raccoons were nocturnal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slightly fat officer with a brown fedora stare down at his gold cane as if it came from another planet. It's obvious they haven't seen a weapon like his. His ancestor Slytunkhamen II had invented the weapon which was inspired from the khopesh that was used in ancient Egyptian times. The crosier was, and still is, a trademark weapon in the Cooper family. And even though his cane wasn't exactly something that was passed to every one of his ancestors, Sly was honored to hold such power in his paws. Er, hands.

"Hey," Sly uttered. The officer didn't hear him, so he cleared his throat in annoyance. The man glanced up, questionably. "Don't break it." He warned, watching the man snort and hand his cane over to a woman with dark skin and curly black hair. Gordon urged him into the cruiser that was painted black and white with the typical sirens on top, flashing wildly but the letters on the door confused him.

_What the hell is GCPD? PD, obviously meaning police department was easy to figure out, but GC? What could it stand for?_ Wasn't he in Illinois? Sly contemplated whether he should ask Gordon what that meant but decided against it as he stepped in the car. He'd eventually find out.

The way they were treating him was completely unorthodox. Judging by how they were acting, they must have thought he wasn't much of a threat. A mere suspect. Well, they didn't know he was a master thief. At least, not yet. Sly immediately felt insulted yet amused at the thought but he hadn't committed a crime tonight, besides breaking and entering. If it weren't for his suspicious attire, he would have easily passed off as an innocent bystander for his acting skills surpassed many. Although, it was Halloween, so that must've thrown them off.

Not only that but Sly made it an art to get in and out of buildings undetected. It came with the job after all. He hasn't exactly been in prison as he was "un-catchable", but he did work for Interpol for the past nine years. And if GCPD was the same as Interpol, he'd find a way out.

The female officer, now holding his cane, opened the door to the driver's seat, while Gordon spoke to her in a voice too quiet for Sly to hear. When he was done talking, she gave him a firm nod and slammed the door. She started the car and drove away from the Institute. Seating himself behind the driver's seat, he looked out the window gloomily.

He glanced down to see that he didn't have a seat belt, and struggled to do so with cuffs on. He noticed how they were tight and would most likely leave marks on his wrists after they were removed. The side of his head was pressed against the cold window but he didn't seem to mind or care. His eyebrows knitted together as he squinted his eyes at one of the rooftops they passed. He could've sworn he saw something; someone, standing on the ledge. _Watching him._

Sly rolled his eyes, and laughed at himself, causing the officer to give him a strange look in the rearview mirror. He's already experienced strange things in his life to know that whatever he had seen shouldn't scare him. But as the cop he once was, he still felt the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Something funny?" The woman in front of him asked calmly. He focused his attention back to the female officer on the other side of the grille, scrutinizing her reflection. Her sharp brown eyes briefly glanced to stare back at him.

Sly shrugged. "Oh, I thought I saw someone on one of the rooftops." He answered, nonchalantly. "Must be going crazy."

She pursed her lips and he could see that her face hardened as she kept her eyes on the road. Sly didn't pry, but whatever he had seen seemed to unnerve her. "Did...did you see what it was? Who it was?" She whispered to him.

Not missing the way her fists tightened around the steering wheel, Sly replied, "Not really. Whoever it was, he or she looked dark...and looming." She remained silent but her fists didn't loosen, as she continued driving.

Wherever she was taking him made Sly uneasy as he gazed at the murky buildings pass by. He didn't remember Chicago being this ruined or filthy before. The streets were abandoned but every now and then he could faintly hear a woman's screech along with the distinctive echo of a bullet. Everything else was just dead silence that made the blood in his veins turn to ice. The only people who were present were hobos huddling in corners or loitering on the sidewalk. They passed a warehouse that was half blown with one side standing, and a corner store scribbled with graffiti.

_Okay, whatever GC meant, it's obviously not the best place you'd want your kids to grow up._ That much he could tell. The woman kept her gaze forward acting as if the scene before her was nothing. Before he knew it, they crossed over a bridge where it was much cleaner. Sly immediately felt safer as he witnessed the surroundings change from dirty and unorganized to tranquil and livable.

It had only been a few blocks since they've drove away from the Institute but Sly was already growing mad with boredom. He felt twitchy, his right leg shaking up and down really fast, and he needed to resist grabbing the grille and stare longily at his crosier. He hasn't felt like this since he spent time in "_the hole" _back in Prague when the Contessa locked him up in the asylum. He would have gone mad if it weren't for Bentley. Sly needed to move. He needed to be running on rooftops, walking on tight ropes, climbing up pipes, and paragliding through the night sky. In short, he wasn't one to sit down and stay still.

His boredom bought him back to the officer in front of him. She wore a trench coat and, if he wasn't mistaken, a suit right underneath. Not being the curious type but also not being the silent type, Sly broke the silence. _"So..."_

"Yes?" She answered politely, her eyes still on the road.

"I don't mean to distract you but, who are you?"

The woman in front hesitated for a second but then said, "Detective Renee Montoya." Sly's heart skipped a beat and suddenly he found it hard to breath. The shock in Sly's face was hard to control. Renee looked in the rearview mirror for a brief second to see that he instantly paled.

_Hold up, Sly. That's not Carmelita. Obviously. She doesn't even look like her. Well, of course that's not her unless she followed me through the portal. Carm would do such a thing,_ he thought. And if that was her, without a doubt she'd bring him back to Interpol.

_She definitely doesn't sound like Carmelita, either. No, that couldn't be her but she bore a slight resemblance to her._

And then it hit him. He was getting arrested. _No, duh _but someone else was taking him into custody _other_ than Carmelita. Not that she was able to catch him that often. The first and last time she did was their first date. Well, in his view, it was kind of a like a date.

"You okay back there?" Montoya asked, a but concerned.

"I'm fine," He responded. Memories he shared with Carm seemed to be quite a burden for some time. His wish to stay in a stress less and carefree world with Carmelita, Bentley, and Murray was nothing but a faraway dream that will cease to become a reality. On his lap, his fingers curled and he felt his heart sink, wondering if his life will ever be the same.

Montoya didn't look reassured and she began to worry if the man had a bad case of motion sickness. Sly hesitantly said, "It's just that...you remind me of someone."

She blinked. "Oh?"

"Well, just by name, of course. Her middle name was Montoya."

For some unspecific reason, Renee blushed a beet red. She had to admit, the man behind her was handsome but she couldn't let looks fool her. There was something about his tone, though when he said her. Not only did he sound humble and soft, but it was something she didn't ordinarily hear. Criminals in Gotham weren't exactly modest or honest. _Perhaps, this man is a bit different than others?_ She thought.

With indecision still questioning her, she asked, "Is this her your...wife?" As soon as the words flew out her mouth, he flinched, and looked away as if the question physically hurt him. Montoya immediately regretted asking. Yes, he was a criminal...a very unusual one.

They didn't say anything after that but Renee didn't hear the words that barely passed his lips. "She was about to be..." His forehead was pressed against the back of the seat in front of him, and his eyes were closed. Sly focused on his breathing, thinking about last week when he was about to ask Carmelita Montoya Fox - the woman who persistently chased him around the globe when he was thief and the woman who he was, in no doubt, in love with - the most important question that would have changed both of their lives.

The cruiser made a sharp right making Sly hit the door, not that he noticed, and stopped. The building they pulled in front of was much more cleaner and organized. But because it was a police station, it gave Sly all the more reason to be nervous.

Montoya opened the door for him, pitying the man. For all she knew, he could have just been at the wrong place at the wrong time but if he really did cause that blackout then there was no going back for him now.

"Maybe we'll continue this conversation inside."

**)-(-)-(**

Another sleepless day at work, but having it as an agenda for years was more than enough for Gordon to brush off the drowsiness. Although, the other night Barbara openly talked about filing a divorce, and it began to make him weary. Being the Commissioner didn't help his fatigue either. And the Batman's lastest message only made him anxious. The little sticky note that Gordon found on his desk the other night was simple and to the point. Just like him, except the man wasn't exactly simple.

And if he was planning to make an appearance, he prayed that he would stick to the shadows. There were too many witnesses and someone could easily spot him. The least Gordon could do was wait in the back, farthest from the group, leaning against a car, to see if the Batman decided to arrive, and remain inconspicious.

There weren't that many people to trust besides Bullock and Montoya. But he wouldn't dare tell them about his partnership with the caped crusader. Lord help him if anyone found out.

"Commish?"

Speak of the devil. Gordon turned his head to see Harvey Bullock. The rather grouchy officer held up a white coffee cup to Gordon's face. "Want it?" Jim didn't ask where he was able to purchase both the cup and the coffee, and gladly accepted the caffeine. He inhaled the coffee's scent and sipped, not caring if the taste was bad, and thanked him. "Aren't you going to join the others?"

"No. I figured Barbara would like to see me today." He responded, placing his cup on top of the car, and folded his arms. "But there's something weird about that man."

Yes, it's obviously the day when kids and adults alike dress up and go around their neighborhoods and ask for candy. But considering how dangerous the streets have become, not many children went out. Not even in the afternoon. A few brave souls who volunteered to accompany children every year on such a scary night was nothing but little success. Turns out those who mostly volunteered were the criminals leaving many worrisome, and angry, families. Gordon felt bad for little Jimmy. He wasn't even going to experience the joy of Halloween.

But that wasn't the problem. It was the fact that many criminals were beginning to play dress-up.

Bullock snorted. "This is Gotham. How much weirder can it get?"

He ignored that and said, "I've already assigned Montoya for this case."

"Good. Can't be doing all the work 'round here." Gordon only shook his head and sighed. "Hey, are you going to that party tomorrow?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I already told you that I have to. As the Commissioner, as well as a colleague of Dent, I need to give out a speech to commemorate his legacy." So many people were asking him that question lately, and it began to irritate him. Not only were they oblivious of Dent's true intentions, he would have to lie. Lie in front of the whole police force and Gotham's finest about what Batman did when in reality they all should be thanking him.

And, for some reason, he began to hold a strong disdain for Bruce Wayne. At first, he found it hard to believe that the frightened little boy he met so long ago became this egotistical playboy. His daily life consisted of doing stupid things as if he didn't have a care in the world. Although, another side told him that he was the reason why Coleman Reese, as well as himself, was still breathing. Actions told everything about a person but in this case, it's who you are and what you do when people turn their backs on you.

His thoughts disappeared by Bullock's rough grunt. "Don't worry, Jim. I'll man the fort when you're all gettin' drunk and whatnot."

He let out a heavy sigh and scratched his temple. "Shouldn't you be with them, Bullock?" He said, gesturing over to the group.

The rather grumpy man muttered a, "Yeah, yeah," to him. He stomped over to the group of men who then proceeded into the Institute. College students were being evacuated, some of them were still in their pajamas. Gordon glanced at his watch and was half-hoping that the Batman would show up.

And for the millionth time, he wondered who the Batman was. Gordon didn't know how he could endure through such torment. But then he considered what Gotham would be thirty years from now. The image of chaos, destruction, and Gotham in flames filled his mind. There was a large amount of casualties and amongst the hordes of lifeless bodies, Batman lay in it. And so did he.

After a decent ten minutes, Jim figured it was high time that he wasn't gonna appear. He grabbed his cup and walked around the cruiser to the driver's seat. He took a sip and was about to open the door when a shadow, hunched on the ground next to the cruiser's passenger door, shifted in its crouched position. Gordon jumped and turned to his left to spit out his coffee, making sure it didn't hit the Batman. The coffee wasn't good anyway. He hastily spun his head in all directions to see if anyone was watching.

"After so many years, why does that still surprise me?" He mumbled. Jim tried to make it look like he was talking on the phone by pulling out the cellular device and holding it to his ear.

"Hello Gordon." He replied. Batman's raspy reply was still as intimidating and dark as always.

"It's been a long time." The dark knight didn't respond. Although it was hard for Jim to see, he was sure that he nodded. Not wasting any time, he said, "MCU is already investigating the place, and from the looks of it, there were no casualties."

"What about that man?"

_He hasn't changed a bit, has he?_ Jim thought. "We haven't identified him, yet." He let out with a sigh. "Although, something tells me that he doesn't seem like much of a threat."

"It's possible that he was forced to do it. But don't let your guard down."

Gordon nodded. He wasn't sure what else to tell him. As far as he knew, Batman was in the dark about who caused the blackout. Not only that but the Joker was still on the loose. They were just lucky, and glad, that he wasn't causing any mayhem but they were always prepared.

"Get some sleep." With his phone still in his ear, he stared at him. Batman rose from his hiding spot but, thankfully, all the cops were either inside or they drove off. Gordon clamped his phone shut, shoving the device in his pocket. "You've got a long day ahead of you."

Jim scratched his neck and looked away. It always amazed him how he could worry about the welfare of others and not himself. And because of this, Bane had managed to paralyze him. Gordon would make sure that he'll be there for the vigilante next time. "And you don't?" He asked, concerned. The man didn't respond and he didn't need to look to see that he wasn't there anymore. _Yep, he's still the same._ He sipped his coffee, and grimaced before pouring out the contents on the streets. He glanced over his shouder although he knew he wasn't there, he gave a small smile to the dark alley. "It's good to have you back."

**)-(-)-(**

"C'mon. Just take it off, and hand it over." The older cop demanded, impatiently.

Getting arrested was almost everything that Sly had imagined. They took his muggshot where he proudly showed his white teeth and smiled. They took his leg pouch and checked his pockets to see if he had anything sharp. They didn't question him about anything and he was glad but confused at the same time. All the while, his cane was brought somewhere else. He was a bit troubled when they were taking his belongings away but he was forced to comply to their every whim. However, when the time came when they asked for his mask and his cap, he stubbornly refused to do such a thing.

Sly hadn't uttered a word since he arrived, too busy being lost in his thoughts. He stared numbly at the man and said, "Not gonna happen."

"Give it here or I'll-" A hand went on the officer's shoulder, making him turn around.

"I'll take it from here, Officer Higgins." Montoya said, calmly. She patted the older cop on the back as he grumbled something unintelligent and stalked off. Renee put a hand on her hip and looked Sly in the eye. "Sir, please hand over your mask, and your hat."

"Sorry, but I can't do that."

"And why not?" She questioned, with a bit of an edge in her voice.

The little glare that he was receiving didn't scare him at all. He simply returned it and watched her flinch. Sly crossed his arms and leaned closer to her, his face inches from Renee's. He then whispered, "Because it's my dad's."

Montoya silently thanked that the men in the room was paying them no mind, and that it was mostly empty. Sly couldn't tell if she blushed because of her dark skin but he soon saw a light pink on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to."

"In all honesty, you don't." He replied, flatly.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "How about this. I'll hold onto it."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. He highly doubted that but something told him that she wasn't bluffing. His blue cap was his father's, so it meant everything to him. Even the clothes on his back belonged to his dad. Hell, it even smelled like Conner Cooper. The mask wasn't really his but he's never taken it off in public._ "Really?"_ He asked sarcastically. "Are you sure it won't go into some bin like the rest of my stuff?"

"I'll keep my word." Renee stated. If this was Carmelita, she'd force him to do it.

Thinking about Carm made Sly chuckle. Although the events of last week were still fresh in his mind, her beautiful face filled with anger made him crack a smirk. Grinning like a fool, he glanced up to see a confused Montoya tilt her head at him. "Alright, here you go." With that he untied his mask and took off his cap then handed it over.

Renee took a good look at the man that stood in front of her. He was absolutely dazzling. Strangely, however, his hair color was silver and, instead of being flattened, it was spiked up.

Before she could do something stupid, she led him to a cell that was in the corner. The prisoners who were awake howled at them while some snored but they both ignored them. Montoya took out a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

Sly could have taken her right then and there but he hesitated. If Bentley were here, he'd know what to do; being the brains and strategist in the gang. After stepping into the jail cell, his gaze met the ever so supportive Renee who was studying him.

"Oh, what now? Do you want my gloves as well?"

Her forehead creased and she frowned at him. "About that woman you mentio-"

"How 'bout I tell you later?" He interrupted. "You know, when you're ready to interrogate me?

She blinked and her eyes widened. "You've been arrested before?"

"Let's just say, I often deal with police while on the job." He said with a smirk.

As much as it bugged her, she knew she had to wait until later. She shrugged and closed the cell door, making sure it was locked and walked away, leaving Sly to fend for himself. Dramatically, he gripped the bars in a desperate gesture of getting free, and stood there. Montoya disappeared into the hallway and the voices of the prisoners died down.

He was free to think except he didn't know what to do. The thought of his little turtle friend, Bentley came to mind again. Was he really the only person who could keep him out of jail? Apparently, yes. But what would he tell them? Sly already experienced what it's like to be in a mad house and he didn't want to be thrown into one ever again. When the time would come when they needed to interrogate him, he would just do what he did best; think on his feet.

He sighed heavily and turned his back to the bars letting himself slide down to sit on the dirty floor. He pulled up his knees and rested his head on it. He was so tired, confused, and... Just then his stomach growled, loudly. Hungry. When was the last time he ate? Ever since last week, he developed an eating disorder. His stomach clenched, indicating that it was empty but it wasn't the only thing that was hollow.

"Well, well. Hello, handsome."

Alarmed, Sly was already on his feet and looked around his cell. He wondered about the bad lighting in the cramped prison and the fact that there were no windows. He sensed another presence in his cell as he turned towards the voice. A shadow within the shadows moved on the bench. He froze, feeling chills being sent down his body. It wasn't the sultry voice or the physical shape of a female laying on the wooden bench that made him freeze, it was her eyes. They pierced through the dark, glowing a bright emerald. _Eyes that belonged to none other than_ _Neyla._

Those eyes were enough for Sly to back up against the cold metal bars and cling onto it for dear life. He didn't even have his cane to protect himself. His chest thumped uncontrollably as his heart rang in his ears. And worst of all, his knees felt weak as he was unable to move. Neyla leapt off the bench and approached him, her heels clicking loudly. His arms shook with anger and fear, but as she stepped into the light, he only grew more confused.

"I didn't even do anything. What? Cat got your tongue?" She jestered, laughing at her own joke. It made sense, being that Neyla was a cat but then Sly blinked. He realized that when she spoke she did not have an English accent.

He looked at her, actually seeing her for the first time. She was fairly tall, probably about a few inches shorter than him. A black form fitting suit hugged her fit body showing wonderful curves with toned arms and three inch black boots. Her collar was unbuckled and the zipper was down to expose her cleavage. Her chiseled features, black eyeliner and luscious red lips along with her seemingly tussled but sexy pixie black hair made her look pleasing to the eye.

Sly let out a sigh of relief as he realized that the woman in front of him was, in fact, not Neyla. But she had a strking resemblance to her. Whether she was Neyla or not, he still kept his guard up.

The attractive woman raised her perfectly trimmed eyebrows and crossed her arms at him. "What's up with you? Did a cat _really_ get your tongue?"

"More like I've seen a ghost." He said, coolly. Her voice was hypnotizing, and so smooth. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the bars. There were many words to describe the sexy stranger. One being sexy, mysterious and very suspicious. Sly knew better than to just throw his trust to anyone. Although, he needed to get his mind off of the whole ordeal he was facing so he asked, "So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She narrowed her green eyes at him. Shifting on one side, she put her bare hand on her hip. "I can't say much but I'll tell you that I let myself get caught."

Sly stood up a little straighter. His chest rose up and down slowly, as he licked his lips. "Seriously?"

"Sadly, yes." The woman said, sounding disappointed. Her head dropped down to the concrete floor, making her layered hair cascade ever so slightly. Her gaze looked up to meet Sly's intrigued eyes. She crept closer to him, almost in a cat-like manner, until she was two steps in front of him. She raised a perfectly manicured hand, and gave him a cute, crooked smile. "Catwoman."

Astonished, he tilted his head back a little and returned the grin. For Sly, this was getting strange. Not only was Catwoman the spitting image of Neyla, but they were both connected to cats. Her removed his blue glove on his right hand and firmly shook her warm hand. "Secret ID, huh? Fine, the name's Conner."

"And I'm guessing that's just an alias." She shot back. Catwoman pulled away, and took a few steps back to look him up and down.

"For now."

**)-(-)-(**

Bruce parked in the reserved parking spot, and opened the door to his red McLaren. He locked his car, and opened the door into the lobby. Few people greeted him as he smiled, and nodded but he didn't verbalize anything. His first night on going out on patrol after so many years wasn't really what he expected. A little action and even more mysteries that needed to be solved was nothing that he can't handle. But the million dollar question was the identity of that mystery man.

He took a few snapshots and even after arriving at the Bunker, he came up with a flat blank. No criminal record, data records or even a birth certificate. He's not even a citizen in the U.S. or any other country for that matter. It was like he never existed.

And that was a huge problem. He was like the Joker. They knew nothing about him, except that he was insane, or what his motives were. And from the looks of it, they both dressed up like it was Halloween everyday. He only hoped that this man wouldn't acknowledge how much power he has. The power where Batman couldn't threaten him with anything besides his life...which he wouldn't take.

Bruce looked at his diamond-encrusted watch and yawned. Without even looking, he pushed the button to his penthouse and stepped in when the doors slid open. Today would be the last day he would spend in the penthouse. And knowing that Alfred would keep his word, he was gonna sleep like there was no tomorrow. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and basked the wonderful silence.

"Hold that, please!"

_So much for peace and quiet._ He opened his eyes and was quick enough to reach his hand out to stop the doors from closing in. The shuffling feet of two people resonated in his ears as he kept his head down.

"Thanks, mister." The woman said, a smile in her voice. When Bruce glanced up, he almost choked but he forced himself to stay composed. It was that young lady.

She wasn't alone, however. Behind her was another young Asian, coming off as inches taller than her with shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes. In her hand, she had what looked like to be a notepad and a pen.

Bruce's mind immediately shouted ninja. Intuition told him that that was her. No doubt. Bruce and the female ninja exchanged a brief glance before they looked in opposite directions. As much as it urged him, he wanted to call her out on the spot but right now, he was Bruce Wayne. Not Batman. And she didn't really commit anything illegal.

"No problem." Bruce responded. Elevator music started playing and the two young ladies groaned. After they reached the fifth floor, neither of them didn't press the floor they were destined to go and it took awhile for one of them to speak.

The woman that Bruce saved, glanced at him and asked, "Um, are you going to this floor, sir?" Beside the long haired woman, her friend stayed quiet and kept her face forward.

"Yes."

She looked up at him given her short height, searching for something in his face. _Trying to see if she recognizes me,_ Bruce guessed. "Are you- I mean, do I know you? You look really familiar."

"I'm fairly recognizable in Gotham, so, yes." He said, smoothly. His famous coy smirk flashed at her, confirming his identity. Her smile seemed to widen and she took his hand and shook it enthusiastically. Startled, the young lady clasped both her hands on his left hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne! Saves me the trouble from finding you."

"Oh please, call me Bruce." He quickly detached his hand from hers, not anticipating that.

She cocked her head, pondering on this before nodding. "Alright, Mr. Bruce.

His eyebrows furrowed. Whoever she was, she reminded Bruce of all those fancy movie stars that he dated. "So, what can I do for a pretty young lady like you?" He asked.

She didn't even need to think about it because she immediately said, "I wanted to know if I can possibly work for you."

Although surprised, Bruce's face hardened. But he kept his smile in place. "What do you have in mind?"

"A maid." He raised one eyebrow at her capricious replies. _She can't be serious._ "You see," She began to explain, "My family has a long history of being butlers and maids. And I thought that it's time I did the same."

Bruce examined her. Just a few hours ago, she displayed a little knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. Although, he could tell that she had much to learn, she didn't look like the dangerous type. But looks were deceiving, he knew that more than anyone. "I'll have to think about it, miss...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How can I forget to introduce myself?" She asked, more to herself. She shook her head at her ignorance, but strangely she introduced her friend first. "This here is my friend, Cassandra Cain. She's a mute." _Well, that explains the notepad._ Then she extended her right arm, the one that had a cut..._that was no longer there._ She probably used makeup to cover it up before tending to it but her arm looked as if it were never bruised. _She must have used some damn good makeup to cover up such a fresh wound,_ Bruce thought. "And I'm Leigh. Leigh Pennyworth."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****I own nothing or nobody except Leigh, the plot and the new OC, Steven.**

**I have nothing else to say but review and please tell me your thoughts. Even if it's critical or harsh, I like to improve my writing.**

**Until next time... =)**


	3. Trinity Affinity

_Chapter III: Trinity Affinity_

When the elevator pinged, indicating that they reached their destination, and slid open, Leigh immediately exclaimed, "Uncle Alfred!"

The older man with a head full of white hair stood to the right of the elevator, patiently waiting for his master's arrival in his usual tailored black suit. He spoke with that of a pure English accent filled with surprise. "Leigh?"

If Alfred weren't so old, she would have practically jumped on him just for a hug. She was careful enough not to choke him in her bear hug. And for a tiny person, she needed to tiptoe to make her chin reach the old man's shoulder. He pulled back, noticing the presence of his master who had his head tilted, his eyes studious.

"You didn't tell me you had a niece," Bruce accused, walking past his butler.

"You simply don't ask, Master Wayne." He replied, stepping away from his niece. He followed Bruce guiding the two girls behind him, as they strolled towards the living room.

An awestricken Cassandra took a good look at her surroundings. _So, this is the lifestyle of the rich and the famous, huh?_ She thought, gingerly. Compared to all of their previous travels, Leigh and Cass didn't live the good life, much less believed there was one. Well, Leigh believed in one, Cassandra thought different. They rarely came across noble and humble people who offered such generosity that Cass still thinks about it today.

Looking at the clean haven instead of some mucky hotel with terrifying service only angered her. While people like Bruce Wayne earned their wealth through estate, some people had to work for it. And no matter how hard Cassandra worked, she never had a sliver of experience to know what the good life was like.

But what did it matter to her, anyway? They only came here for one reason. Eight years of searching did them no good, and they were running out of time. Cassandra didn't even know why she came with Leigh when she could have been sleeping to prepare for tonight.

"Well, you never run out of things to say." She heard the billionaire say to Alfred.

She bought her attention to him, not faltering once in the man's deceit. She watched Bruce, studying his every movement. The so called playboy lazily plomped himself in the black armchair while he tossed his jacket to Alfred. _Oh, he's good._ She focused on his face seeing his hazel orbs harden as it made contact with hers. _There,_ that was all she needed.

Unblinking, Cassandra used all her might to concentrate on everything he did and how he looked. The angle of his strong jaw, the stubble on his chin, the faded black color around his eyes and his sharp cheekbones. He was favoring one leg, and his shoulders were stiff. In one fell swoop, she already deduced his identity.

"I apologize, sir." Alfred started to say. "I didn't know she was visiting. A phone call would have sufficed."

Bruce didn't mind at all. It's not like his penthouse wasn't big enough to hold a party of four. His confidant rarely talked about his family. While Bruce was so busy brooding and pushing himself to his limits, he didn't even have the nerve to ask his own butler about his family history. It made him feel guilty, but he couldn't picture himself as the snobby and conceited stinking rich type. At least, not while he was around Alfred. Only he knew the real Bruce Wayne.

What was really bothering him was Cassandra Cain. This had to be her. _That ninja._ She kept staring at him, and it was only a matter of time when he was sure that she knew. Something told him that she knew that he knew who she was. If he could, he would have kicked her out but that wouldn't be the right thing to do. All she did was protect Leigh..._from him._ Bruce respected that. Hell, if he had kids, he wouldn't trust them with a guy running around in a bat suit.

Leigh sucked her teeth, resembling that of a rebellious child who was just scolded. "We didn't have time,' she explained. "Cassie and I just sort of decided to come to Gotham."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Miss Cain." Alfred said, grabbing her hand and shaking it proudly. He then lead her to a chair where Leigh sat next to her on the armrest. "I'm grateful that you are taking very good care of Leigh." The old man gave Cass a warm smile as she returned it. Leigh pouted as Bruce raised an eyebrow, noting how she was acting childish. "How long do you plan to stay? More than a week, I hope."

Leigh's grin reached up to her eyes, showing the authenticity behind it. "We're staying here permanently, Alfred."

From where he was positioned, Bruce watched Alfred's blue eyes beaming with a tint of shock. He wasn't the only one, though. Cassie gawked at her as if she suddenly grew three heads.

"I'm glad to hear that." He replied. Bruce shot him a look that clearly said he needed to tell his butler something very important. The older gentlemen simply ignored his charge's look. "Would you like something to drink, Miss Cassandra?"

_'Water please.'_ Alfred just nodded as he headed off to the kitchen leaving the remaining three in an a awkward silence. Leigh got up and looked outside the windows, admiring the view with her palms pressed against the stainless glass. The billionaire looked past the young woman sitting across from him, acting as if she didn't exist.

"Umm, Leigh?" Alfred called, returning with a transparent glass filled with water and ice cubes in his hand. The debonaire woman looked over her shoulder, not taking her hands off the window. "What exactly do you plan on doing here in Gotham? Any particular job you have in mind?"

A bit surprised, Leigh joined the group and stood beside her uncle. "Hmm, I just got a job as a bartender last night."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up. "A...bartender?"

"Yeah. I had to walk in this dirty part of Gotham-"

"You mean the Narrows." Bruce interjected.

"Yeah, whatever, the Narrows. But don't worry I-"

"Leigh, the Narrows is a dangerous part of Gotham." Stepping closer to grab her shoulders, Alfred looked her straight in the eye with a serious expression. "Was Miss Cassandra with you?"

Cass violently shook her head and wrote down,_ 'She took off on her own.' _

"Leigh, you must know that Gotham is much more dangerous than the last time you came here. Where ever you go, I want Miss Cassandra with you at all times."

"But I-" Alfred gave her a fatherly stern glare and she instantaneously closed her mouth. All the while, Cassandra was writing a whole paragraph on what happened not so long ago excluding the part about herself and Batman.

After a moment of silence, Leigh muttered, "Besides, why'd you ask if I got a job?"

It shocked Bruce to see how bold she was. To him, Alfred was the closest thing to a father and he knew the consequences of breaking the boundaries of his butler's limits.

"Well, you told me that you wanted to become a, uh, what was it? A pop singer, last time you were here."

Her cheeks flushed, and her blue eyes gazed down to the marble floor. "Yeah, but I was what? Seven? And even if I did started singing, it's not like I know how to write songs or anything."

"And that's gonna stop you?" Alfred asked.

Cassandra scratched her pen against the paper and showed it to Alfred._ 'Apparently.'_

"You can sing?" Bruce inquired. Her voice was annoying, that he had to admit but he never knew.

"Why, of course, Master Bruce. She has such a lovely voice."

Leigh chuckled and scratched behind her ear, once again showing Bruce her perfectly un-scarred forearm. "I don't know. I haven't sang since...well, the accident."

Cass looked up at her from where she sat, urging her. "Wait, you want me to sing? Just like that? Right here?" She seemed to panic but it's not like Bruce had any secret cameras installed. _Oh wait, he did..._

Alfred seemed to read his mind because he wore a mischievous grin. "I'm sure Master Bruce doesn't have any hidden cameras. Although, I don't see why he wouldn't."

She didn't seem convinced however the three of them were pressuring her as their gaze bore into hers. Leigh sighed, her shoulders sagging. After a minute or two, she happily said, "Alright. But what do I sing?"

"That's up to you."

"Well, that's the thing I don't- oh never mind! I'll just start!" The hyperactive woman reached in her coat and took out an iPod shuffler. She placed her earbuds in and started searching for a song.

Bruce hid a yawn by covering his mouth. _Wasn't he suppose to be in bed?_ He really hoped that Alfred was telling him the truth about her having_ such a lovely voice._

"Okay, the lyrics will just click, so I'll be okay." Alfred squeezed her shoulders, as he took a seat next to his master. Rubbing his hands over his lap, the corner of his lips curled into a small smile, remembering the last time he heard her sing. It had been so long.

Leigh sighed, feeling nervous. She closed her eyes, and lifted her chin up but her audience could see her drop her shoulders. The tension all over her body eased as she breathed in through her nostrils before opening her mouth.

**[A/N: ... = pause. Note to God by Charice. Listen along if you want.]**

_"If I wrote a note to God... I would speak what's in my soul... I'd ask for all the hate to be swept away. For love to oooverflow..._

_"If I wrote a note to God...I'd pour my heart out on each page... I'd ask for war to end, and for peace to mend this world._

_"I'd say...I'd say...I'd say._

_"Give us the strength to make it through. Help us find love, cause love is overdue. And it seems like so much is going wrong, on this roooooaaad we're on..._

_"If I wrote a note to God...I'd say please help us find a waay. End all the bitterness, put some tenderness in our heaaarrts._

_"I'd saaay, I'd saay, I'd say!_

_"Give us the strength to male it through! Help us find love, cause love is overdue! And it looks like we haven't got a clue! Need some heeeeeelp from you! Grant us the faith to carry on. Give us hope when it seems all hope is gone! 'Cause it seems like so much is going wrong on this rooooaaad we're on!_

_"No... (clap) no. (Clap) We can't do it on our own!_

_"Sooo, (clap) sooooooo...(clap)_

_"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh!_

_"...And it looks like we haven't got a clue! Need some heeeeeeeelp...!_

_"Grant us the faith to carry on! Give us hope, when it seems all hope is gone! 'Cause it seems like so much is going wrong on this rooooooaaad we're on!_

_"No, (clap) no. (Clap) We can't do it on our own!_

_"So, (clap) soooooo! (Clap)_

_"If I wrote a note to God...!"_

For what seemed like an hour, the four remained quiet and vigil. From the corner of his eye, Bruce found that both Alfred and Cassandra started crying.

_Wow. Just wow,_ was all Bruce thought. He was at loss for words. Completely blown away. Her singing was something that he had never seen before despite never listening to music on a daily basis. It was truly beautiful.

Simultaneously, her voice was as tranquil as a forest but strong like a raging fire. The lyrics flowed out of her mouth perfectly like a river stream. Her tone was clear, and vibrant. It wasn't hoarse or rough, but smooth altogether.

It's been ages since he felt this way. A warm and tingling sensation pelted the area around his chest, stomach, and most of all, his heart. While he listened, it made him forget about the bad things that were happening in his life. He actually remembered all the good times where his parents, and Rachel, was still alive. _I guess her singing has that kind of effect on you,_ Bruce thought.

Slowly rising from his seat, he advanced towards her. It amazed him how a few hours ago, she was on the verge of getting raped but here she is. Singing like it never even happened.

"Leigh," he began. She looked up at him, wiping away tears of joy while taking off her earbuds. "What do you say about officially becoming an artist?"

"Oh no, Bruce. It's alright. You don't have to."

"There won't be any problem to it." He reaasured her, giving her a small smile.

After hearing her performance, you could say that he was moved. Compared to how she spoke and how she sang, it was so different. Bruce would bet that even the cold-hearted strangers would warm up if they ever heard her produce such beautiful melodies. And as ridiculous as it sounded, her singing could be used as a tool. The voice that would stir the hearts and minds of the weak. Where inspiration will blossom and be payed with something valuable in return.

_Hope._

He already had everything planned out in his head. While he was off chasing criminals at night, he could assist Leigh during the day. Even though he just met her, Bruce forgot never to jump to conclusions. The day he met Harvey Dent, he didn't know whether he should be trusted but, like Leigh, he changed his mind. And the best part is, he would have something to look forward to in the day.

She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's not that, really. It's just that I can't write songs."

"Again with this problem." Alfred finally said, shaking his head in disapproval.

"You can't let this kind of thing stop you. Even if you can't, there are people who are paid to write songs."

"But still." Behind him, Cassandra groaned. "I don't know if people will like me."

"That's preposterous." Alfred stated.

"Uncle Alfie, I've seen singers before. Lots of them. And they are so much better than me. I just don't think I'm ready for this."

After spending a few minutes with the young Asian, Bruce perceived the fiery intense aura that flicked wildly inside her. It was bold, confident and fearless. Ironically, when it came right down to her singing, she was diffident.

"Leigh-"

"I'm serious." She declared. "This is something I really need to think about." She rubbed her arm, as she looked away. Bruce scratched behind his ear, biting back another yawn. He really needed to get some sleep.

"Well, the least we can do is respect your decision." Alfred said, getting up to soothe his niece.

The young woman smiled. "Thank you."

Her uncle just nodded. "You might want to make a prompt decision. I don't think Master Wayne's offer will last quite long."

"Yep, it expires tomorrow."

Leigh gave a small laugh. Smiling at Bruce, she felt her heart squeeze. "Oh, and another thing, Bruce."

"Yes?"

"Will you, uh, think about the whole maid thing? I'm really serious about it, and I'd like to stay close to Uncle Alfred."

Bruce didn't even hesitate. He wasn't sure whether Cassandra would continue with dressing up as a ninja and if she did, by then he'll know how to handle the situation. And he wanted to know a little bit about Alfred's family history. "Of course. You're hired."

Her blue eyes widened with shock and delight. "Thank you!" She clasped both her hands together and began to jump up and down. "Thank you so much!"

Bruce nodded, and looked down at his watch to see that is was almost three am. He groggily said, "Well, I better get some sleep."

"Yes, you have that-"

"Party," he finished for his butler, beginning to walk off. He felt sluggish, although he had no bruises. All that running made his body sore and he was so exhausted. "I know." He said with a yawn.

After going up the stairs and down the hallway, Bruce striped his clothes off, leaving them on the floor. Wearing only his boxers, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his bureau and crashed on his bed. His muscular body was enveloped by white sheets as his heavy eyelids slid shut.

Unbeknownst to him, all the way back in the Bunker, which was completely lacking the entire necessities for the vigilante except a desktop with a computer that consisted of eight screens, one of the moniters came to life. A message was displayed where it said **EMERGENCY** in red letters. Underneath it, a document simply read:

"Two prisoners escaped from GCPD."

Another page popped up where footage was being taken of the escapees...

**)-(-)-(**

"You still haven't answered my question." Conner remarked, breaking the hour long silence.

After her catnap, Selina needed to stretch her legs and take a walk. Though the route she preferred to take was forbidden due to the sealed caged she was trapped in. She wasn't expecting a roommate so soon, considering that she wasn't planning on staying for long. But she wasn't one for small talk, so as she gracefully stands in front of the stranger with her back to him, she says, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Behind her, Sly shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"So, what?" Selina elicited, looking over her shoulder. "Are we gonna play twenty questions?" Even though he was a complete stranger to her, Conner was definitely a sight for sore eyes. He was like the combination of hot and handsome. She couldn't deny it. He wasn't crazy muscular but he did have some muscles. Judging by looks, he was more of the athletic type so it led her to believe that he must have some agility. He had the face and body of a European model. And his voice...so rich and smooth, it would make every woman's heart melt.

His looks, however, weren't going to win any points with her. Even though it already has. Conner - whatever his real name was - just wasn't gonna hear her story.

"Well, you could go chat with those guys over there." He gestured to the snoring bunch across from them on the other side of the bar. "Unless you want to start banging your head on the wall; just to see how many times you could hit your head without passing out."

In short, neither of them had anything better to do to burn time. Selina whirled around, eyebrows pressed down on her emerald eyes with her arms crossed. The stranger sitting on the bench had his foot resting on the seat with his forearm over his knee. She was curious, as always. Not many people happened to arouse her interests. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or he just made a good impression.

A conversation would be nice. Something to pass the time but she ultimately knew she couldn't reveal too much. More importantly, she wouldn't allow an opportunity like this to go to waste. That is if he was secretly rich, she could pay him a little visit. Or he could help her escape and retrieve that damn diamond that Ivy so desperately desires. Besides, she wondered how a hunk like Conner could end up here.

"Alright, hot shot. We'll play it your way. But you have to answer my questions, as well."

"But of course." He responded with a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. "But I asked first. Why did you end up here?"

"I already told you." She encountered.

"You didn't elaborate." He controversed.

After a long pause, she scowled. "Fine. My accomplices planned this. We're looking for a rare diamond, and it turns out the cops have it. It's somewhere in the evidence room."

Conner frowned. He wasn't expecting a straightforward answer but he felt a bit satisfied. "So, why a diamond? Is it _that_ valuable?"

"I honestly don't know." She added truthfully, strolling over to the barred door. A slender hand ran along the rusty metal bars, examining every bit of detail. She breathed through her nose as she recalled the brief meeting that Ivy set up. "Red says there's some sort of special substance in it, which can be useful to her plants."

She already knew his next question before he even asked, but she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Who's Red?"

"Red is the one who planned this. That's a nickname, by the way." Conner nodded. So far, he was showing no signs of boredom.

"You don't seem to like this _Red,_ why?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fuck yeah, I don't like her. She's like one of those grouchy teachers who complain about their lame and miserable life."

Sly laughed lightly. "She can't be that bad."

Selina shook her head. "All you have to do is meet her, and then you'll see what I'm talking about."

"Hmm..." Sly's eyes left the entrancing figure of Catwoman to the floor. "So, why do you call yourself Catwoman? Do you have, like, some sort of fetish with the animal?"

Slowly, Selina turned around. Their gaze locked onto each others. Sly didn't know whether it was his gloves or the fact that he may have asked the wrong question without even knowing, or both, but his palms began to sweat. It was times like these when he would start flirting, but whenever he pushed the wrong button with women, _(*cough, cough* Carmelita) _he would run like hell. But seeing as he had nowhere to run, he was pretty much doomed if she ended up attacking him. He wasn't going underestimate a woman in his life ever again, especially when they happened to remind him of his arch nemesis.

Much to his chagrin, her green eyes turned somber and she looked _really, really_...sad. Alright, now he was feeling bad. Never in his life has he intentionally, and yet unintentionally, made a girl cry. Thankfully, no tears threatened to spill.

"You know..." She said, barely a whisper. If it weren't for his excellent hearing, he probably wouldn't have heard her. "At first, I was gonna name myself _'Stray Cat' _because..I lived on the streets."

"What made you change it?"

"The future."

He probably didn't hear her right because he was confused by her answer. "Eh?"

"The future." She repeated. "Because I'm done with the past."

She looked away to the gray wall sitting parallel to her, ignoring the eyes of Conner. After a few minutes of quietness, she glanced to see that he was done asking questions. She recovered quickly, but for some reason she felt like ten pounds were lifted off her shoulders.

"Alright, so that was..." Selina began counting on her fingers, a smile creeping onto her beautiful feautures. "Nine questions. My turn. How'd you end up here?"

Behind his yellow collar, Sly swallowed the huge lump in his throat. "I got caught breaking into an institute."

"Care to explain why?"

Sly sat up a little straighter. _Oh yeah, my friend was kidnapped and I had no choice but to find her in a secret basement which also holds some sort of teleporting device that lead me to this place. Not only that but I somehow end up fighting my arch nemisis who came back from the dead and she's the reason why I'm stuck here. _Yep, it sounded completely simple and conventional in his head. It surprised him that he was concealing his shock and frustration so well. He just needed to stay calm during the whole ordeal.

He decided to go for the cliche reply but he had the feeling that she would want him to go into detail. "It's a long story."

"Let's hear it. It's not like we're getting out anytime soon."

He hesitated, receiving an arched eyebrow from the femme fatale. She opened her mouth to protest but Conner clapped his hands, making her mouth close as he rubbed them together. "Alright then, it's story time." Selina rolled her eyes but her ruby lips curled into a small smile. "My gang-"

"You have a gang?" She abruptly said, making a face.

"Yes, the Cooper Gang. Can I finish?" He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded. Sly decided to give her a short summary of what he could make out. Of course, he wouldn't mention anything about the portal and would make his story crisp and clear. "One of my members was kidnapped, so we found out where she was by one of our temporary members, Steven."

"Temporary?"

"Yeah, he was more like an informat. Anyway, we went to go rescue her, but turns out it was an ambush. The bastard Steven even helped planned it. I knew we couldn't trust him."

Selina hmmed in response. This is exactly the reason why she worked alone. People became a burden, a liability. They only bring you down and get in your way. Besides, she didn't want friends who wouldn't be there tomorrow. Conner stared at her blankly, waiting for her to ask the next question. "So, where are your friends now?"

"_I_...don't know." He admitted, putting emphasis on the "I." Placing his two feet on the solid ground, he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with Selina's green gaze. He sighed, feeling his stomach churn with both starvation and anxiety. "I, kind of let them escape."

Selina's eyes bulged, making them appear wider than a full moon. "Whoa, whoa, wait. What? You mean, you let them escape while you got arrested?" Conner's brownish-gold stare locked onto hers, confirming this. "How stupid."

_"Excusez-moi?"_ Conner asked, displaying his fluent French tongue.

Her eyebrows shot up but she asked, "You take the fault when your gang gets away."

As much as he wanted to, it took everything in Sly not to tackle her. He was beginning to grow tired of everybody questioning his committment to his gang. "Sure, my gang is named after me but you got it all wrong. They work **with** me, not _for_ me. Besides, I've been with them since we met in the orphanage."

Selina softened a bit. She didn't know what it was like to rely on others. Her opinion about being self-employed was so powerful, that everything else was a haze to her.

Sly gave a small knowing smile at the gray floor as he recited Bentley's words. "If you can't count on a friend to bust you out of jail, then what kind of friend are they?"

She thought for a moment as she processed this. She spent most of her life traveling, and as great as that sounds it wasn't the best years of her life. After he mother died, she did everything she could to survive and lived on the streets. She didn't have anybody, let alone didn't want the company of others. She was only working with Ivy because she didn't have anyone to turn to for help.

And she might have stolen many valuable things but the one thing she could never grasp was a handful of loyal and trustworthy companions. She returned back to Gotham, her birthplace, in search of that but she was beginning to question the motives of Pamela Isley.

Speaking of Ivy, the green bitch was nothing she expected. She was a coward, a wimp. Selina did all the work and sacrificed her own identity just to save her sorry ass. She sweared if that bitch didn't hold her end of the bargain, she'd burn every fucking plant in this damn city.

Selina shook her head and sighed. "Tsk, more like you'll be sharing cells."

Sly laughed. "So true."

They were quiet for a moment, wrapped in a comfortable non-awkward silence. The ticking of a clock was the only thing that could be heard. Although Sly felt a little better now that he got his mind off certain things.

"There's another thing I wanted to know." Conner looked up. She didn't know how to put this but it didn't matter to her if he would be offended. "What are you suppose to be?" Selina casually asked. She found his clothing to be a bit quirky, though it looked suitable. But what really made him stand out was his silver hair and the strange symbol on his yellow belt. All she knew was that the symbol represented an animal.

"Pardon?" She pointed to his belt. "This?" He enquired. "It's a raccoon."

"What! Are you kidding me?" Selina started to burst out in laughter. Her white teeth flashed, as she grabbed her sides. "Out of all the damn animals in the world, why a raccoon?"

Sly leaned back, feeling offended. In his world, she would understand why. "Because raccoons are nocturnal. But don't worry. I don't go around and start calling myself _'Raccoon Man,'_ or something. Not like _someone."_

Selina stood up a little straighter, walking over to lean against the bars across from Conner. "So what do you call yourself when you're out on the job?"

"My name. Real name, of course."

"Ah, that's right." She grabbed her chin and began rubbing it with her forefinger. "Your name isn't Conner".

"And your real name obviously can't be Catwoman."

_Cheeky_. She was liking him already. "I'll cut you a deal. How about we both tell our real names?"

Sly raised his eyebrows. "You sure? Aren't you afraid I might spill the beans?"

"No, I just think it's rude not to tell a girl your name after you just met her." Not only was she dying to know his actual name, but she felt drawn to him. She found herself having uneven breaths, and the blush she applied really helped whenever she'd turn as red as a tomato. And that was a bad sign. "The cops already know who I am. They just have to decide if I'm going to Arkham."

Conner cocked his head. "Arkham?"

Selina looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. "Arkham. Y'know, the place where they send pyschos?"

He was still confused, as he cursed himself for blurting out. "I'm sorry. I'm new here."

She unfolded her arms, her eyebrows pulling together. "Really?"

"Y-yeah. I don't even know what city I'm in." He replied, fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

As much as it itched her to start questioning him or call out insults, Conner looked as if he really didn't know where he was. It's almost like he fell out of the sky. "Huh, that's strange. Oh well, Arkham Asylum is basically the place where they throw crazies. Oh, and you're in Gotham by the way. Get it memorized."

_...Gotham?_ Sly made a face, as he slowly pernonced the city's name. _Gotham... Gotham... Got ham?_ He smirked as he played with the words in his head before nodding. "Now, you were going to tell me your real name?"

She snorted. "Don't think your off the hook. You tell me yours."

"Of course. After all, I'm not ashamed of who I am. But can I ask, why do you find this so important?"

"What does it matter?" She snapped, blushing yet again.

"Hey, you're the one who asked." Sly pointed out, not wanting to get on her bad side. "Right. Well, ladies first."

"You better keep your word or I'll claw your eyes out." Sly gulped, feeling the threat but forced a smile and nodded. Catwoman definitely reminded him of Neyla. He just hoped that she didn't carry a whip. "Selina Kyle."

_Selina Kyle._ It was a nice name and it definitely suited her. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The femme fatale slightly shook her head, her pixie black hair swaying side to side. "Now, your turn, _Conner."_

He opened his mouth but then, he heard it.** A noise. **It was the sound of someone's footsteps. He clasped his mouth shut, holding up a hand to silence her, his eyes gliding over to the door of their caged sanctuary.

Bentley always praised Sly on his excellent hearing. He never needed a radar or whatever high tech gizmo that Bent usually invented. His sensitive ears could hear the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings crystal clear, in the midst of a noisy crowd with the loudest possible headphones on. That's how good he can hear.

"Maybe later."

"What? But I-"

He cut her off. "Someone's coming."

Just then, an officer came into view. He had dark brown hair with a serious expression, and his jaw was clenched. He stopped in front of their cell, taking out a grey key and slowly unlocked the door.

Bewildered, Selina's emerald eyes darted back to the stranger sitting on the bench. "How'd you know?"

Conner simply shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

"Sir, come with me." The young officer said.

"Not like I have a choice." He said under his breath, shaking his head. He rose from his seat and glanced at Selina. After passing her, he momentarily leaned over, his lips curling into a smile as he whispered in her ear, "Sly Cooper."

Her eyelashes flickered multiple times as she let out a soft gasp. She directed her body to the man who was walking out with the officer. She felt a smile tug at her crimson lips, as stared at Sly's back. "Don't keep a girl waiting." Selina purred as the metal door locked shut.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! I'm so sorry if you don't like this chapter, and that I update so slow! _ I don't like this chapter very much, well not when Leigh started singing but I did it for a reason! <strong>

**But there's a good reason why I updated today...**

**IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! XD So remember that folks, May 1. **

**Anyway, Sly's interrogation will be up next. I know I said this will mainly focus on Bruce but something tells me that you guys want to see more of Selina than what's going on with Bruce.**

**And last week, on the 26th, my class was talking about epic heroes and we happened to talk about Batman. I was grinning ear to ear until class ended. So that kind of speeded up the process of this.**

**So, anyone Got Ham? XD I noticed this when my sister was playing Arkham City. Good game, btw.**

**Review please! Tell me what you think, even if it's critical or harsh! =D**


	4. Through The Glass

_Chapter IV: Through The Glass_**  
><strong>

Detective Ronald Higgins flipped through the piles of files for the umpteenth time. The pages ruffled as his fingers glided from one page to the next. After an hour of carefully reading, his cup of coffee kept him from punching a hole in the wall. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and stretched his legs under the table.

The paper he stopped on was a report based on the theft of an EMP blaster from WayneTech that took place on August 21. So far, that was the only connection he could make between the blackout that happened three hours ago.

Higgins observed the picture of the stolen technology. The EMP blaster laid flat sideways, positioned as if it were a gun. To Ronald, it looked like the future improved, miniature sized rocket launcher. It was black with two large rectangular boxes on either side of the handle. The back was more longer and had four cylinders. The front had a silver lining and he could barely see the trigger that was connected to it.

From what he picked up the range of the blackout spreaded past Gotham City limits. _How could some small ass technology even cause a blackout that could effect an entire damn city? More importantly, why the hell would Wayne Enterprises built something like that in the first place?_ He thought, shaking his head at the inconvenience.

What was really vexing him was the lack of information of the identity of the man who caused the blackout. They had no idea who he was. And after taking his mugshot, they still came up with nothing.

He could only come up with what they already knew. Possible age was between twenty-five through forty, height: exactly six feet. Eye color: brown/gold. His real hair color remained unknown and he couldn't decide whether to write down silver hair with a question mark next to it. And up until now, no priors existed. Just the breaking and entering of the institute, and causing one of ancient history's most widespread blackout. And the theft of stolen property but he had no evidence on that.

Imagine that. Imagine not having the knowledge of someone, not knowing their background, their motivations. It was like taking mysterious to a whole new level. It was truly terrifying. And exacerbating.

He slammed the pages on the table, and scratched his eyebrow. "This doesn't make any fucking sense!" He roared, waspishly pounding his fists on the steel table as he almost knocked off the lamp. A couple of papers found its way to the floor but the ill-tempered officer could care less.

"Ronald, relax." A warm hand rubbed the older officer's arm, trying to calm him down. Montoya soothed the middle-aged man, watching his temper lessen to an absolute minimum. Her partner was always fussing over the littlest things and they haven't even interrogated that mystery man yet.

Ronald scratched his temple, and snarled. Without looking at her, he yelled, "We've got no clue on who this jackass is! Nothing! Nada! He's like a fucking ghost!"

"Don't get so hot and bothered." Renee remarked, going down on one knee to pick up the papers. When all the files were in her hands, she stood up to straighten them on the table and laid them flat.

"Whatever. Just look at him." Ronald stretched his arm to the glass with his palm facing up. Renee tilted her head to get a better view. The man with shiny silver hair peered at the tinted window glass, his eyebrows beginning to form a knot. The bright white light beamed heavily on his handsome face and illuminated his spiky hair. His body was distorted with bruises and scratches. His right cheek had three faded lines resembling a twisted version of a cat's whiskers.

Sly absorbed every bit of detail in the interrogation room. Staring straight ahead, his only escape was a bolted door. In the corners were dust bunnies, cobwebs and- _was that a dead spider?_ Looking at the black creature laying helpless on the floor reminded him of the widowed Contessa. Oh, how he hated her.

And the dead smell in the room didn't alleviate his tired conscious. It made his stomach twist into knots that was probably screwed tighter than the lightbulb hanging above him. His leg was once again shaking up and down under the stainless steel table. His hands weren't cuffed, so he made his own comfortable spot in the white room, ignoring the people who were probably staring at him curiously through the tinted glass on either side of him. He let out a deep breath and covered his mouth when he yawned. Whoever was gonna interrogate him sure was taking their sweet time.

His bored thoughts bought him back to Carmelita. Sly's leg instantly stopped shaking as he focused his eyes on his blurry reflection on the table. Images of his blue haired angel poured out of him like a waterfall. All the memories came out too quick, and too painful. All of it was difficult for him to perceive one at a time.

From the day when he first kissed her, to the day where he was first arrested, to the night he gave up his entire thieving career just for her was all a flash of pain to him. The events of last week had been that breaking point. He was surprised when she suggested to go to that fancy restaurant, as he had the same thoughts, on the same night when he was planning to propose to her.

_Carmelita Cooper. It always had a ring to it._ He knew there was something bothering her, he just couldn't put his finger on it until she told him that night.

_She wanted to break up with him._

She dropped the bomb just like that and explained how their relationship started on nothing but lies. Well, of course it was. He faked his own amnesia just to be with her, and she lied on how he was her partner.

But that didn't mean that he no longer loved her.

Sly always thought that making the hard choice in his life would satisfy him when he received the reward. Now that he thought of it, he was the only Cooper to fall in love with a police officer. He couldn't differientate on which was the more harder decision. Giving up an opportunity to be with the woman of his dreams, or give up the life he'd always known? In the end, he had to sacrifice something.

He still missed the good ol' days. Back when Bentley, Murray and he would gather around a circular table which usually contained blueprints and schematics to plan for their big heist. They always went over everything just so things went sailing smoothly. Sly even missed the annoying slide shows Bentley would make them listen to.

He mostly missed the times when Carmelita and him would play cops and robbers. The way she would throw useless threats just to make him stop. How Sly would run from rooftop to rooftop, dodging the bullets of her trusty Shock Pistol, laughing his lungs out whenever she told him to _"freeze."_ How he would get away everytime, and get the chance to see the look of pure anger on her face.

Sly always believed that she was mostly beautiful when she was angry..._at him._

His criminal life was something he couldn't just ignore. It was a part of him, it flowed through the veins in his body. And he couldn't simply push it away. He was born this way and it was who he was.

A thief.

On the other hand, being with Carmelita was a total new experience for him. And he enjoyed every minute of it. Working as a cop wasn't as bad as he thought. Well, that's mostly because his partner was his lover.

Was it worth giving up the life he lived as a thief? _Yes._ Did he regret what he did? _No._ Is he ready to face the wrath of the fiery and hot-tempered woman when he would eventually tell her the truth?

_Yes and no._

Sly crossed his arms, listening to his stomach growl hungrily. He rubbed it tenderly, his finger tracing over the dirt on his shirt. His eyelids felt heavy and he wondered if it was alright if he would catch a few Z's before they began playing good cop/bad cop.

On the other side of the glass, Higgins, who was now standing up, shook his head. Not taking his eyes off of him, he muttered, "I've got a bad feeling about this scum."

"So, why can't you send Renee in?"

Both detectives bought their attention to the officer lingering in the doorway. John Blake, a beat cop placed in special duty under the Commissioner, raised his eyebrow at the two. His face was hidden considering that the room they were in was dark except for the lamp.

"Yeah," Montoya agreed. "If you're feeling so queasy then why don't you just let me take care of him?"

"No way in hell." Higgins quickly said, even though she didn't move, the older man stepped in front of her to block her path.

"You do know that Gordon assigned me to this case," she pointed out.

"You need to stop going by-the-book, Renee." They both crossed their arms at each other while the sole officer was left to observe the two in mild amusement. She pursed her lips, as her partner bored his eyes into hers. "I don't know what you're thinking but you should know by now that I always handle the interrogations. Criminals these days are dangerous, you should know that."

"Maybe that's why." She said through clenched teeth. "It's stressing you out, isn't it?" Trying to persuade him was something she would have never attempted. Although, there were times when her partner needed to lay off for his own good.

"Its my job," He rebuked.

"Well, its mine too."

Higgins just shook his head, and pushed past Blake to the interrogation room. _Women,_ he thought. The rancor he always felt towards criminals were much stronger than his hate towards women. Mybae it had to do something about growing up in a criminal family.

Montoya scratched her cheek, letting out a soft sigh. Blake soon left, leaving her to just stand and watch.

**)-(-)-(**

The halls were exceptionally quiet except for the hum of the heater that emitted. Officer John Blake warily glanced around him, making sure no one was watching him. It surprised him that not many people were here especially with what happened at the institute. He stepped into the room, trying to calm down his heart from jumping out of his chest. He needed to stay surreptitious for the next few days, and he was afraid he would get caught.

His eye caught the camera placed in a corner that was rotating to and fro at ninety degrees. He waited until the camera would angle downward, which would indicate that it would be safe for him to move. It only took a few moments for the signal to come through before all the cameras in the room went offline.

Most of the prisoners were asleep but he knew that one person remained wide awake. As he approached her cell, she was already standing there, waiting for his arrival.

"Miss Kyle, you look lovely as always." He commented, his face impassive. "How was your week?"

Behind the bars, her face hardened. A unusual trait for a woman who flirted outrageously while donning a cat costume every night. She didn't waste any time. "Enough of the bullshit, Blake. Just tell me what I need to know."

He merely blinked at her, as she crossed her arms and tapped her heeled boot impatiently. "Well? Am I in or not?" She demanded.

He huffed, slightly shaking his head. "You'll get your answer by tonight, Selina." He promised, solemnly. Turning on his heel, he walked right out. Selina's green eyes squinted at the doorway where her colleague disappeared.

**)-(-)-(**

"Okay, dirtbag," The older officer announced, stomping his way inside the interrogation room, his dark green combat boots echoing through the empty space. "Start talking. Who are you, and why were you in the Institute of Gotham?"

"..."

Higgins raised his eyebrow, his patience growing thin. Ignoring the chair, he slammed his palms on the table and bent down to Sly's eye level. "Well?"

Sly dipped his head, glaring at Higgins underneath his eyelashes. His hands were on the table, drumming his fingers lightly in a rhythmic thump. He didn't know how long they held the staring contest but the only thing he heard was the hammering of his heart. _Remember when he said that he was out of options but not out of time?_ Well, he easily lost both in the two short hours as he dwelled in this alternate universe. He still needed time to get his story straight. But time was no longer on his side.

"We could do this all night." Ronald said, gritting his teeth.

Sly was amused. First things first, get this washed-up cop outta here. And he knew exactly how to execute that plan. He daringly raised his eyebrow at the detective, the corner of his lip curling to a smirk. "Okay, old-timer. Bring me Renee Montoya and then I'll talk."

Ronald couldn't suppress the bewilderment laced with anger that threatened to show on his face. Sly gave him a devious smile, wondering who was going to submit first.

Higgins' palms pushed against the metal table, making it slightly move towards Sly, as he headed through the open door. He slammed the door shut before turning right and scowled at Renee once his eyes met hers.

"Happy?" He asked, harshly.

* * *

><p>Renee cleared her throat once she was seated across the mystery man. She wondered why he specifically requested for her but then again, she pretty much asked for what was coming. "So, sir, would you mind telling me your name?"<p>

"Conner Cooper."

Renee's face fell as she leaned back in her seat, surprised. _Well, that was easy._ Just by saying that she might as well have pressed a Staples button. Through the heavily tinted glass, she could have sworn she saw Ronald's jaw plummet to the floor.

"Umm, okay." She said, unsettled, taking out a pen and her notepad. She warned herself that the name was probably just an alias but she'd play along for now. She didn't look up as her pen scratched against the paper. "Can you please tell me why you were at the Art Institute of Gotham?"

Conner closed his eyes, and sighed. Once again on the same night he said, "Its a long story."

Her tone was clip and it had become all businesslike. "Would you please go into detail?"

"Certainly." He said, stalling for a few seconds. He prayed to his most gentlemanly ancestor, Thaddeus Winslow Cooper III, that he would help him carry out the usual deception and charm act.

He gave Renee a toothy grin, and gulped before saying, "You see, my boss Ne-Ne... The name isn't really important. Anyway, I needed to owe my boss a few favors..." He paused for a brief moment, feeling his words pour out on its own. "But technically, I couldn't."

Montoya's forehead creased. "You couldn't? Or you refused to?" She asked slowly. He gave a small nod of his head. "So your boss forced you to do this?"

"Well, threaten is a better word." Sly responded. He didn't know where he was going with this but he needed to watch what he said. He was walking on a mine field and one wrong move would blow his cover. "My boss has my...girlfriend as hostage."

Renee took pity on the man sitting in front of her, her brown eyes never leaving his. She didn't need to ask who he was talking about, knowing well enough his girlfriend was the woman that he mentioned when they had a short talk in the cruiser. "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like to tell me her name?"

"No!" Montoya blinked, looking puzzled at his sudden outburst. If he told her, she wouldn't find jack about who he was talking about. "I mean, no. I can't. Boss says if I do, then she'll...she'll," Sly paused, his brownish-gold eyes trailing to the floor. His face clearly said he was hurt, but he wasn't faking it. Although what he said next wasn't entirely true, "She'll kill her."

"Oh." Montoya silently wrote that down, and that his boss was a woman. Typically, it was more natural for a man to play this kind of role. "But sir, you do realize that we could still find her? Without doing her any harm."

Conner shook his head. "No, my boss...has people everywhere. And I don't want to take any risks, y'know?"

She nodded. That she could understand. Corrupt cops were more populated than honest ones. Although, she was offended that he thought that she was a corrupt cop but she admired the precautions he was taking. "Right, of course."

"But I can tell you that she was a cop." He stated with a small grin. He was getting her off topic. _Good._

Intrigued, Renee's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so?"

"Yep." Conner was now balancing himself on the metal chair as it rocked back and forth on its back legs. "What did you think when I said I dealt with police before?"

She nodded, and wrote down some more notes. Without looking up, she asked, "Where does she work?"

"H-huh?" He stammered.

"Umm, does she work here? The FBI...?" She offered, giving him a inquiring look.

He struggled to answer, biting his tongue in the process. Surely, Renee already knew that Montoya was Carmelita's middle name. So he had no choice, and hoped that she wouldn't look at him like he was crazy, and said, "Interpol."

Sly must've been blessed from lady luck or something. Renee had that expression where it looked like someone rained on her parade. "Oh." Her voice trailed off, sounding a bit disappointed. She didn't like Interpol. She didn't know why. It was probably because of the way they operated. Or maybe it was simply because she couldn't remember a time when they've set foot in the most crime-infested city. "So she's stationed near Gotham, hmm?"

_Actually her main headquarters is in Paris,_ he answered in his head but he tentatively nodded. He wasn't too sure if Paris, France even existed in this universe. His luck would turn lousy the second he would abuse it so he didn't take the risk.

But strangely, it felt reassuringly good to hear that there was actually a police unit called Interpol. Although, it wasn't like he could just holler and some of his pals from work could drag him out of this mess.

So for now, he looked for every possible escape route which wasn't a hard thing for him to do considering that he saw things that not even Bentley or Murray even saw. As Spiderman would have put it, his _"thief senses"_ were tingling, as he spotted blue sparkles glittering underneath the table indicating that it was safe to crawl under. You'd be surprised on how many times a mere table could help you sneak your way past guards.

He also needed to watch what he had to say. Bentley would do backflips in his wheelchair just to see him being extremely careful.

"Are you okay?" Montoya asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, why you ask?" Sly's eye drooped, as he tried to focus on the woman sitting across from him. Even though he's traveled for most of his life, he always had trouble adjusting to the different time periods.

"You look like hell."

Sly frowned and went to inspect his clothing to see what she was talking about. Now that he looked at how clean she was, he realized just how dirty he looked. His shirt had stains and it was tattered on the edges. _Sorry dad,_ Sly thought. Scratch marks, mixed with dirt and dried blood was splattered on his cheeks. His jaw felt sore and he was pretty sure one of his ribs was broken. On his arms, dark areas formed and his throat felt dry. He gripped his right shoulder where he found a bullet hole with a bullet grazed into his shoulder. The fight with Neyla seemed to have a huge effect on his clothing as well as his will.

Without shame or hesitation, he plucked out the bullet and held it out. They both heard the remarkable rumble of Sly's stomach in the white room. Renee tried to control the calm expression she normally put on but she couldn't help but wonder in amazement. _How could someone endure through that and still be standing?_

"I'll have someone check you out after this." She said, firmly.

"Oh, you're too kind." Sly replied. He was a thief, an outlaw, so that meant a lot of people pointing their weapons at you. He had enemies, people who hated him but through it all, at least he wasn't doing it alone. He just wasn't too sure if the paramedics in this world could help him. Or it could start up something that he wouldn't be able to finish. "But I'm fine, really."

Renee shook her head, her dark curls swaying at the motion. _Men,_ she thought. A sigh passed her lips before she asked, "What's the name of your boss?"

Conner tensed, as his body went from relaxed to scared stiff. The inevitable question he was hesitant and afraid to answer was soon detected from the woman. She placed her notepad down, and leaned forward in her seat to fold her hands.

"There's no reason why you should be afraid to answer, Mr. Cooper." She glanced at his hand, lying innocently on the table encased in a blue and yellow glove. His eyes was diverted from hers, and the effect of placing her warm hand on top of his was little to success in comforting him.

Sly felt like he was in therapy. But this had nothing to do with psychological issues, so he quickly withdrew and allowed gravity to have his hand fall on his lap.

She opened her mouth to reassure him with a lie but the door behind her buzzed before it was jarred open.

"I've got it!"

Renee turned around in her metal chair to see Higgins looking short-winded as if he just ran a marathon. But the look of blazing triumph in his green pupils and the victorious grin he wore made it look as though he just won a marathon.

"What are you talking about, Higgins?"

"Take a look at this." The older man didn't wait for her outstretched hand and dropped the folder right on her lap. "I went down to the old files and I found these."

She hasn't seen Higgins this excited before. He was usually grumpy, almost like Bullock except he didn't smoke or drink.

Ronald shoved a black and white picture in her face. It was shaking so much, she snatched it and held it in front of herself to examine it.

The image was blurry and hard to make out. However, there was one face she could clearly see. She looked up from the photo to Conner, then continued to pursue this method as she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The picture was old, obviously, but that didn't mean she could see the man that was plastered in it. It was focused on a man..._that looked exactly like the one sitting across from her._

"It must be a coincidence." She finally said, not giving in to admission.

Her partner grunted and went around the table. He roughly grabbed Conner's chin so Renee could directly see his face. "But look at him! They look exactly alike! This ain't no damn coincidence!" He yelled in his southern accent.

"Have you ever heard of the term doppleganger?" Sly shot out coldly, jerking his head from the officer's hand.

"Indignant as ever." She muttered, shaking her head. Ronald always loved a good argument, but this time she'd make sure she would come out on top.

Ronald ignored this, resisting the urge to smack Conner upside the head, and opened the files on Renee's lap. "And look at this," he pointed his stubby finger to the paper where a name was displayed. "His name is Conner Cooper."

Time was put to a standstill. For Sly, that is. The only thing he heard was the rapid thumping of his heart. Everything else was drowned out, carrying out its tasks, as he sat dumbfounded. His throat was closed up, and his whole body froze, unable to react accordingly to his newly acquired knowledge. A single word popped into his head.

_Impossible._

Renee seemed to be on his side. She wasn't convinced that Sly, alias Conner, was the same Conner who was on the picture. "What are you suggesting?" She asked. "That this Conner Cooper is the same as this one?" Higgins nodded, desperate to win the argument. Even though all the proof was presented to her, there was one thing that still didn't make sense. "Ronald, this can't be right. The Conner in this photo says he's been born on 1950."

Sly's eyes almost bulged out of its sockets. _His dad was born on 1950. That meant that his dad was here! How was that possible?_ The master thief's mind raced with millions of endless questions, as he tried to get a look at what his dad's profile said. Higgins was right. This was no coincidence.

Sly's eyes traveled back to Montoya who slowly gave her partner a look, who wondered if he was beginning to grow senile. "Does he," She gestured to Sly with her eyebrows raised in disbelief, her eyes never leaving the older man, "Look like he's...sixty years old?"

"In other words," Sly butt in, giving Higgins a wry look with a smug grin. "Do I look as old as you, grandpa?"

**)-(-)-(**

The sky was painted a beautiful orange mixed with yellow to compliment its grace and beauty. How ironic that yesterday was a chilly evening for the citizens of Gotham, but today it would be sixty degrees, tops. The sun was beginning to rise as Alfred twisted the faucet of the kitchen sink. After Master Wayne went to sleep, he felt obligated to treat his niece and Miss Cain to a light breakfast. He was sure Master Bruce wouldn't mind, much less he wouldn't even notice. He thoroughly cleaned the dishes, not allowing a speck of leftovers behind.

Wiping his hands on a cloth, he walked over to the kitchen table to retrieve his master's coat. Something small and black clattered on the white tiled floor. Bending over, Alfred picked it up and studied the small device.

It had a screen and it was shaped like an iPhone but it was much thinner. The older gentlemen recognized it as another one of Mr. Fox's _"toys."_ Looking at his reflection, he always wondered about the vast technology that Lucius often invented. He never asked about them though. The screen soon lit up, as Alfred's curious blue eyes drifted from the screen to the hallway where his room was located.

Setting the jacket and the device down on the table, he walked over to his room. He went over to his desk and opened the case to his thin rimmed glasses. As he placed his spectancles on, he debated whether he should wake up Master Bruce. The young man had a long night and he needed to be awake for the re-opening of his own mansion. So, he chose not to bother him when he needed the energy for such an event.

He went back out and saw that the device started to play a footage. On the bottom right, it said 2:48.27. Alfred looked at the clock hanging on the wall seeing that this took place about two hours ago. It started out black and white but it was in HD. It was angled to look at the room similar to that of a camera. Alfred soon realized that he was looking at a security footage from the GCPD.

The next thing he knew a man came into view but he ran into the next room, yelling something over his shoulder as he did. Another figure soon came into view. Alfred was sure that the new figure was a woman. Her head whipped around her, her gloved hands on her thighs as she catched her breathe.

The most peculiar thing he found about her was that she had a black mask with cat ears and goggles perched over her forehead. Her eye caught the camera, as she looked straight at Alfred. She smiled devilishly, blowing a kiss, and wiggled her fingers with her left hand as her other reached for something on her thigh. With a flick of her wrist, the screen went black.

**)-(-)-(**

Sly dragged his feet, the soft soles of his boots barely making a squeak on the floor. The information he gave them would have proved impeccable if they placed all the pieces together. There were some missing parts. Parts that Sly wasn't planning to reveal until he had everything straightened out.

The food, as well as the medical procedures, were the same back in his world. The food wasn't exactly exquisite but he had to make do with it. His rib didn't feel so sore anymore, and he could feel the bandages compressing against his skin. The white pad on his cheek covered up the three clawed marks that Neyla left in her wake. His shoulder was stitched, filling up the small hole but he's had worse scars before.

What'd you think? That being a thief, and a former police officer, would leave his skin looking pretty clean and sleek? Nope. The bruises and scars may have faded over time but they're still there. And Sly could vividly remember the sharp pain that every bullet, punch, kick, sword, etc when he reflected upon such memories.

He was safe, for now. And after being treated and feed, (which reminded him, he wondered if this was how Murray felt who was always eating whenever he got the chance) he was still jumping at any opening that came his way. Sly listed every possible escape, memorized certain areas in the building, and watched very closely on the faculty.

Montoya said that they needed to reflect deeply on their interrogation before they made any conclusions. In his mind Sly was demanding for answers while he calmly nodded at Renee as she said this.

_His dad was here._

_Before._

_In this world._

_...Exactly how?_

He began to wonder if he fell down the rabbit hole, and then he'd wake up to find out that this was all just a dream. A terrible, mind-blowing and overwhelming dream. Neyla would be dead as she's been presumed for the past ten years, he'd be back in his animal inhabitated world, and everything would be the way it was before he went through that portal.

Which meant that his relationship with Carm was over as it had been since last week. He inwardly groaned, and his footing almost made him trip.

_Maybe this place isn't so bad,_ he thought. What if this was the very fabrication of his own fantasy and he was just getting lost in it?

Maybe his dad, Conner Cooper, was added just to remind him how much torment and misery he went through as a kid when he witnessed the death of his parents. Its been what? Twenty-two years since that dreadful day but even though Sly lived for thirty years, he could clearly visualize every single thing that happened. To all the blood on the walls, from the five figures that loomed in his living room, and the feeling of having his eyes burning with tears and the intense taste for vengeance came rushing back to him.

It still hurted him when he thought of it. The loneliness and torturing he suffered was a heavy burden he carried when he was just eight. And now, the old friend struck at him. Reminding him how alone he really was. But all he could do was swallow the pain and eat all the bullets that came his way.

So where did that leave Bentley and Murray? Was he ever going to see his best pals?

And in the back of his mind, Selina Kyle alias Catwoman, lay floating. _Was she real? Was she suppose to represent Neyla in this fantasy-based-on-reality world? So did that mean Renee Montoya represented Carmelita? His one and only?_

_...Stupid Sly,_ he thought, mentally face palming himself. What was he thinking? He can't be crazy because all of this feels so realistic and yet so surreal.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a small part of him was saying that his theories still doesn't solve anything. He wasn't going anywhere if he thought he was losing all sense with reality. He needed to find out what was real, and what was not.

But **HOW?**

Sly all but knew one thing. He was going to break out of this nightmare. He still had enough strength to carry on the belief that he was going to get out free. He was clinging onto that last bit of hope he had left and he wasn't going to give up without a fight. Not if he had anything to say about it. And if he was required to die, then so be it.

Blake silently guided him to his cell where most of the prisoners were still snoozing. Amongst them, Selina lay flat with her stomach pressing down on the bench and her arms folded in front of her. She couldn't help but watch Cooper make his way to her and their miserable prison.

Her bright green eyes momentarily made contact with Blake's before she closed them, choosing to ignore him.

John took out the key but a sharp gasp made Selina's eyelids snap back open in high alert. Her heart beated faster as she detached her cheek from her arms. Cooper somehow ended up behind Blake, as his cuffed hands went over John's head to where he tightened it over his neck. Blake choked, his hands reaching up to yank the chain from suffocating him. Sly directed the officer's body so that his back was to her. He frantically glanced around, searching for any guards, grinding his teeth whenever he tugged on his cuffs. The other prisoners who stayed awake, watched with anticipation.

Selina bit her lip as the audience began cheering and jeering. Two guards soon arrived, wondering what the ruckus was about. Their eyes spotted Sly and quickly sprinted over to his position. He loosened his chokehold on Blake, putting some space between him and the bars of the cell he shared with Selina.

She didn't know how but somehow one of the guards managed to hit Cooper with a club on his shoulder. The chain on the handcuffs broke, as Sly doubled over, falling on his knees right in front of their cell. One of the guards kicked him on his side making him hit the cell before he landed on the concrete floor. Selina fought the urge to get up and ask him something stupid like if he was okay. The other guard helped John up before kicking Sly on his side once again.

_Okay, was that really necessary?_ Selina thought with a frown. She winced when she heard a crack coming from Cooper. This was just wrong. They were using unnecessary roughness but then, again that's Gotham for you.

All she did was watch but its not like she could help him even if she wanted to. Besides the fact that the prison door was locked shut but in her view, everyone needed to learn things the hard way. _To be strong was to be alone._ That was her code. What confused her was why Sly attacked him and that he wasn't even putting up much of a fight. _I mean, come on. Did he honestly think he could get out by using a hostage? How original._

By the time they were done ganging up on him, they practically yanked the barred door open and threw him in, then locked it tight. Sly lay on the floor, unmoving but still breathing as the men in blue stomped away. His blue gloved hand was clenched in a fist, as he pushed himself up to sit in a fetal position. He kept steady breaths, shaking slightly and wincing whenever his abdominal stung.

Selina kept her half lidded, emerald eyes on him as he found the floor to be much more fascinating than her heavy and questioning stare.

"So, what was that about?" She asked, inspecting her perfectly manicured hand.

He kept his head down probably in exhaustion or shame, she couldn't tell. She figured with the minutes that ticked by, she wasn't going to get an answer from him unless she switched to another topic.

"So how'd it go?" She asked, getting up to stretch. When her heeled boot made contact with the floor, Sly finally looked up. Having so much practice with Carmelita, Sly concentrated on Selina's face instead of her chest as she clasped both her hands over her head.

The enigmatic cat-like woman interested him, yet he distrusted her because of her uncanny resemblance of his arch nemesis. However, Sly held a small hope that she would be willing to work with him. Time to see if he was right. He couldn't help but gulp, feeling the same aura that he felt with Neyla vibrate from the woman who stepped closer to him.

"Swell." He lied, putting on a poker face. He then smirked at her, and rose from the ground to brush off the dirt on his knees and shoulders. "Were you fine with my absence?"

"No, I was so lonely." She said, her voice sounding like a distressed lover. To that, he chuckled and took off the handcuffs on his wrists, throwing them near the door. She still had questions for him, millions probably. Their little game of Q&A was interrupted rather shortly. "So, Sly, why choose the name Conner?"

Sly felt his shoulders sag and he blinked multiple times at Selina. He gave her a sad smile, but his eyes were looking right through her. "It's my dad's name." He said, shoving his hands in his gray pants and sighed. "People always told me that I look exactly like him."

Hearing him sound so earnest, Selina felt her heart tug a little with sympathy and compassion. In her head, she was reveling a little. Seeing him look so vulnerable and unmanly seemed to attract her. To her, men who tried to look tough and act like they had balls of steel was pathetic. Sly was just demontrating to her how everyone, no matter how bad you think you are, had a weak spot. It showed that men were soft. That they were human.

Curiousity struck at her again, as she cocked her head to one side. She decided to ask another question, "So your telling me that when your mom gave birth to you she decided to name you Sly? Or is that short for something else?"

"The name was up to my dad, not her." He retorted, biting his lip. He enjoyed talking about his parents, but tonight seemed to be a sort of standoffish time to talk about them. "And no, it's not short for anything. Just plain, old Sly Cooper."

"Why?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "_Why_ my dad had to come up with the name instead of my mom? Or why my dad called me Sly?"

She paused before saying, "Both."

He rolled his shoulders, receiving a crack. His mouth tilted to one side before he said, "Well, one, my mom couldn't decide so she left it up to my dad. And second," he paused. "Because I'm _sly_." Laughing at his own pun, he could feel the criticizing stare Selina gave him. He crossed his arms, as did she.

"Sly, huh? So, what? Are you...some sort of _thief?"_

"Not just _any_ thief." He paused for effect, as he inched his face closer to hers with a huge grin. The smile he had plastered onto his face deepened, with a glint of mischief that formed in his eyes. "A _master_ thief."

Selina's heart skipped a beat, her green eyes trying so hard not to look away from his goldish brown gaze. He took note of the blood that was rising up to her cheeks, and he didn't know how his smile could grow any wider. "Oh, yeah?" She challenged, refusing to back down. _"Prove it."_

Sly looked down as he opened his clutched hand, feeling the weight of the **_key_**. "You and I; we're getting out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So would you guys believe me if I told you that Mastermind Misery [MM] was actually inspired from the trailer that came out in December? Yep, that party where Selina was wearing a mask, I was thinking that it was Halloween because everyone was wearing them unless its a masquerade ball...**

**Same thing goes for the EMP blaster, its gonna be in the movie. **

**Its obvious that its close to impossible for me to finish this story before July 20, especially at this rate but I will continue with this regardless of what happens in the movie.**

**I do not, I repeat, DO NOT own anything except Leigh, Steven, Ronald Higgins, and the plot! John Blake rightfully belongs to Christopher Nolan!**

**So, any thoughts? Predictions? Just review, even if you didn't like it! =D**


	5. A Daring Dilemma

_Chapter V: A Daring Dilemma_**  
><strong>

"Can I come?"

Cassandra looked over her shoulder as she slipped on her arm length gloves to see Leigh pleading with her hands folded in front of her. _Not this again._ They went over this a billion times. Whenever the young vigilante would do her business, her assistant always attempted to hog her down and make her go with her. On some occasions, Cassandra would just shrug and allow it but after last night she wasn't going to take any chances.

"No." She replied, monotone. Her long haired companion put on her usual puppy face and clutched her arm, as she attempted to weigh her down.

"Well, at least stay home." She begged. Her friend hardly weighed one hundred so it made it easier for Cass to move without slowing down. "You need to rest up for tomorrow."

Cassandra stopped on her way to the door. Leigh looked up. A spark of hope showed that she somehow persuaded her friend. However, Cass soon snapped her fingers and went to her room with her friend in tow. She knew she was forgetting something.

The young woman grabbed the dark cape from her dresser and wrapped its soft fabric around her neck where it cascaded behind her. The two figures she saw running across the rooftops shouldn't have gotten far. She was just lucky that she happened to spot them near their new hotel room. Looks like her visit to Bruce Wayne actually had a purpose.

Cassie removed her friend's hands, and led her to the couch in the living room. When she sat Leigh down who pouted at her with arms crossed, Cassandra placed the black fabric over her nose. She struggled to verbalize the words she wanted to say, mostly because of her inability to speak properly. "Sssssss... Ssssda... Sss-tay. Stay. Pu... put."

The command didn't come out as menacing and fearsome as she had hoped. When she was at the door, she glanced back, her hand resting on the doorframe. She felt a twinge of guilt to see Leigh being burdened with such worrisome thoughts, and the fact that she was going to leave her alone again.

But the notion was soon buried when she felt a new kind of guilt take over. The guilt that she kept hidden was awakened every time she donned her outfit.

Her voice was shaky but a little firm when she said, "I mean it. Stay put." Cassandra grabbed the doorknob, and a slam followed afterwards.

**)-(-)-(**

"We need to be subtle about this." Sly whispered, lowering his tone so only his roommate could hear. He was afraid that their fellow inmates would demand freedom once they stepped foot out their cell. And technically, Sly wasn't planning on causing any tumult.

Truth be told, he didn't really have a plan. Bentley was always the one who came up with these things.

Selina narrowed her eyes, before she went back to staring at the camera on the far end of the corner. "No shit, Sherlock."

Sly made a face, as he sat next to her on the dirty floor. Her legs were crossed, her back upright and her hands on her thighs. The duo was watching the other prisoners like hawks. The prisoners in their respective cells regressed to their quiet behavior and slumped on the benches or on the floor. So far, they've witnessed a handful nestle back to sleep in a half hour. They were planning to leave as soon as everyone in the cell was asleep.

In the corner of her eye, Selina observed Sly. She didn't know what to make of him now that she learned that he was a thief. But not just your regular, petty thief. A master thief.

Selina frowned. _So what if he was a master thief? Oh, there's suddenly a new rank for thieves and she just didn't happen to notice. And just because he stole a key didn't make him a master thief. Thieves were focused more on stealth. That little diversion he pulled off earlier may have granted him access to the key but it didn't qualify him as a master thief._

On a side note, what did it take to be a _Master Thief?_ _What made him so special?_ She felt silly. Silly for being jealous of a stranger who probably deserved a room in Arkham. Just like her.

She didn't know why she was discussing this. Especially with herself. It felt childish. She had to remind herself never to under or overestimate her enemies. She guess that meant the same for her allies. Even if their companionship would last for a few hours.

Cooper began whistling a tune to a song that she didn't know. Some prisoners who were awake cast annoying glances in his direction.

"Zip it, Cooper." Selina said, smacking him on the shoulder.

Sly gave her a playful smile. "Would it be better if I sang a lullably?"

She couldn't fight the smile that wanted to sprout on her scarlet lips but she shook her head. "You'll break my ears."

Just as he opened his mouth to start singing, Selina covered it with her hand. Sly contemplated whether he should lick her hand but the stern expression on her face told him not to. "Seriously. Be quiet." Sly nodded slowly. She retracted her hand, and ran it through her short dark hair. "We don't have a lot of time left, and I'd like to get out of here before sunrise."

"Agreed."

Selina looked like she wanted something to say more but she couldn't muster the courage to do so.

Sly tilted his head. "Something wrong?"

She pursed her lips and looked him in the eye. "If we're gonna work together, I want to know if I could trust you."

Sly flippantly said, "Of course." Selina frowned. Her mouth opened to say something when Sly put a finger to her lips. "Now listen, sweetheart-"

"Sweetheart?"

"-you remind me of someone. You even act like her a little," He removed his finger from her lips and gave her a sad smile. "She betrayed me long ago." He sighed, and scratched the back of his head. Sly recalled when he had asked Neyla for a date in Bollywood. She was always his biggest _what if._ "I almost fell for her, too. Can you imagine how hard that is, for me? To put my trust in someone who looks exactly like the person who abused my trust?"

She thought for awhile. Was that honesty speaking from him? Or was he lying? But as she locked her gaze into his, she sighed. He was telling the truth. Biting her bottom lip, she said, "I can relate. Is that why you were kind of spooked when we met?"

Sly nodded. "I thought I took care of her. How wrong I was."

Selina flinched when he said took care of her. Great, now she was siding with a murderer. But maybe her judgement misunderstood.

"Took care of her?" She repeated, raising one trimmed eyebrow.

Sly's lazy grin appeared. "More questions?" He shook his head, and sat back. Selina didn't know whether if that meant yes or no but she asked anyway.

"So you killed her." It wasn't a question but Selina emphasized killed like it was sin. Which it was. But hey, she was a thief. So what did she know about religion? Although, she always avoided taking a person's life. To her, it didn't feel right. She wouldn't get a full night's sleep without the guilt getting to her.

"My gang try to avoid the word _kill._ We like to say take out, or remove."

"But it's still the same thing." She said, bluntly.

Sly shook his head, his eyes watching another prisoner fall asleep. "The people we '_take care of' _are usually guards that work for mobsters. Criminals, thugs. For generations, my family runs on a code where we steal only from criminals. Never from innocent people."

"How come?"

Sly took a brief moment before he answered. His smile grew wider when he remembered the words that his dad told him. "Because there's no honor, or fun, in stealing from civilians. I guess the same goes for '_removing'_ innocent people."

He paused. Selina didn't know how but his smile seemed to grow even bigger, and it creeped her out. At least the smile wasn't Joker creepy. "For example, there's this police woman I know who's been on my case for _years._ She still is. She used to travel all over the globe just to arrest me." His white teeth gleamed in the dark. "And I would get away every time.

"But I had so many chances to eliminate her. Times where I could have left her to die. In hindsight, I actually saved her from it. Even though I was the reason why she got caught up in those problems."

The way Sly chattered about his love life, Selina felt her heart climb its way to her throat. Nowadays, all the handsome men seemed to be either gay, taken or absolute assholes. Never single. It was disappointing but technically what was she expecting?

But his previous lovers seemed to be dead or out of his league. Certainly, he didn't have any affairs with this police woman. He'd have to be either crazy or the most bravest criminal she's ever met. His relationships said a lot about his nature. Selina was only trying to see what made him tick. Or that was what she was trying to convince herself.

She was, however, wonderstuck. He seemed to lead a very peculiar life. Her life hadn't been that interesting. Perhaps it had to do with the way they acted accordingly with certain things. Of course, it made her even more curious.

"I'm doing all the talking. What about you, _stray cat?_"

Her face fell. _Way to ruin the mood,_ she thought. Selina looked past him, a satisfactory smile appearing. Sly didn't need to look around to see that all of the prisoners were asleep. He was about to get up but Selina's hand gripped the edge of his shirt, and shook her head. Sly sent her a enquiring stare but followed her fixed gaze to the camera.

"Wait for my call." She whispered.

Sly yawned. Her call seemed to have put Sly in a temporary nap. His eyes drooped and his head hung. If there was one thing he didn't pertain, it was patience. About thirty minutes passed when Sly tried to fight back the drowsiness.

A snapping sound woke him up. He jolted up to see Selina kneeling down (_when did she get up?_) with her fingers snapping at his sleeping form.

"It's time."

Sly nodded and wordlessly got up to the barred door and pulled out the key from his pocket. He looked over at Selina, uncertain until she nodded.

The creak almost made Sly close the door but at least it woke up his senses. Stepping out, they were expecting someone to jump out and catch them red-handed but no one seemed to notice. For now. He remembered to be light on his feet as Selina took point. It amazed him how her heels didn't click loudly in the silence.

His eyes darted from one ward to the next. If this was what it was like to be paranoid, he could sympathize with Bentley when/if he would see him. His sensitive ears could hear soft snoring to his left, and groaning followed by someone mumbling to his right. Sly stifled a yawn when he almost ran into Selina.

The femme fatale would have hissed at him as he stood next to her, who wondered why she stopped.

John Blake just happened to stroll by the hallway, which was their only route out of the prison room. But she heard his footsteps stop briefly in front of the doorway. The officer's head moved slightly in Selina's direction before he carried on. A silent message was displayed in his action and it wasn't until Blake's footsteps resonated that Selina took a shaky step forward.

Sly lifted his eyebrows but he didn't bombard her with questions - partly because it would blow their cover and wake up some inmate, and partly because Sly was sure they were done playing twenty questions. Needless to say, his soft soled boots kept pace with her.

They exited the prison ward, and held their breathe. No guards came around the corner. No alarm went off. Nothing. Just dead silence.

Sly tapped her shoulder and mouthed, _Now what?_

Her mischievous grin appeared, and her ruby lips mouthed back, _Follow me._

So he did. She navigated their way to the evidence room which also harbored all the criminal's belongings. How Selina knew that, Sly didn't know why and didn't ask. They avoided the transparent offices by crawling which they both had no problem with. Whenever someone would walk by, they ducked under a table and stayed still. The suggestion of doing so came from Sly, and the cat burgular wasn't so confident about the method until several people went about their business and passed them.

"Seriously?" Selina murmured. "Are they that stupid not to notice us like that?"

Sly gave her a charming smile, and held out his hand as she slithered her way out underneath the wooden desk. Selina was about to smack his gloved hand away but decided to grasp it instead. "If only there were a train of tables."

Selina laughed lightly and continued on their way. By now, the two were strolling down the hallway that connected to the evidence room. At this rate, in spite of the high possibility that they would get caught, they kept their eyes open but took their time.

Sly's keen ears heard small voices coming from behind him. He panicked, and opened the door to the nearest empty office and grabbed Selina by the waist.

"Wh-" Her voice was muffled, when his hand flew to her mouth. Sly pressed himself against the wall, his heart accelerating. Beside him a line of yellow light from the crack in the door formed. He didn't bother leaving the door closed because the two officers were already walking by.

"I don't give a rat's ass about what she thinks!" One voice said. Sly recognized the southern accent as none other than Detective Higgins.

A younger and much more appealing voice spoke. "I dunno, Ronald. Maybe you should take a day off or something. You've been working too hard."

"You take a vacation!" He yelled back.

"How 'bout a room in Arkham?" Sly could see the back of their heads now. "There's no way that Conner guy could be the same as the one in that picture."

"I'm telling you! He's..." Their voices drifted off when they went around the corner. Sly didn't remove his hands until his ears confirmed that they were alone.

"Was that really necessary?" Selina asked. Sly didn't notice that she was blushing slightly. "And what were those two talking about anyway, _Conner?_"

Sly looked away. The digital clock on the desk read 2:36 am.

"We should get going."

Selina didn't argue and poked her head out the door. Five minutes later, the two arrived at the evidence room.

Sly and Selina exchanged glances. They both hastily reached out at the doorknob but their fingers brushed. Sly pulled back and allowed her to twist it open.

"That was too easy." Selina commented as she pushed the door open.

"It's almost like they want us to break in."

It took a moment for Selina to process that the lights, which were on, meant that there was someone already in the room. She grabbed Cooper by his collar and together they hit the deck.

Fortunately, Sly didn't utter a noise when she dragged him under the nearest table. The table was wide enough for them to fit, and they were both careful not to leave their arms or feet sticking out. However, neither of the thieves didn't risk going underneath another table so they were cramped pretty close to each other.

"A little to close for comfort." Selina whispered. Her cheek lay against the dusty, white tiled floor, her shoulder touching Sly's. Selina tried to keep a straight face. The dimpled smile he gave her, made her heart feel funny. And she didn't like what that might mean.

Sly's eyes met her green gaze and hmmed in response just as an another voice in the room demanded, "Whose there?"

They both sucked in air and caught their breath. Sly carefully turned his head to the left, and spotted a pair of black dress shoes enter the room.

The person mumbled something unintelligent and got right back to work. Sly didn't know what the guy was doing but his ideal purpose of escaping didn't involve being stuck underneath a table with an attractive woman. Well, he didn't mind that part but Sly had other plans.

He went to wink at Selina and silently crawled out under of the table. Selina didn't protest, just as he had hoped and ended up at the foot of the man. He was muscular and fairly tall wearing black dress pants assembled with a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

Sly slowly stood up. The man didn't turn around as Sly surveyed the room. His eyes fell on his crosier right over the man's shoulder on the table where his red leg pouch lay. Sly made a _are-you-kidding-me_ face and scowled at the back of the man's dark head. Why people were looking through his stuff, he had no idea. A lightbulb in his head lit up, and Sly smiled, knowing exactly what to do.

He breathed in, closing his eyes and concentrated. It didn't take him long when he disappeared. He held out his hands in front of him and he saw that he was now invisible. Sly sent a silent prayer to his ancestor, Slytunkhamen II, for inventing the Shadow Power move.

He tapped the man on his shoulder and watched him visibly tense, and crane his head over his shoulder.

"What the hell?"

Now that he was distracted, Sly tapped his other shoulder, just for fun, and stepped around him where he snatched his cane. Now that his weapon was returned to its owner, it immediately turned invisible.

The man shook his head in disgust and sighed. "No more distractions. Gotta keep working. Gotta, ah, ah, achoo!"

"Gesundheit."

"Thank you. Hey, wait a-"

The invisibilty wore off as Sly raised his cane where the crook hooked up to the back of the man's shirt and hoisted him in the air. He bought it down and dunked the man on the floor where he was rendered unconscious.

Sly smugly patted his hands, and whirled around just as a voice breathelessly asked, "How did you do that?"

He gave Selina his trademark smirk. "I'd teach you but you'd have to be a Cooper." Her stare said it all. Questions that she wanted to ask, when they couldn't afford the time for. "No time but we can talk about it later. Hurry up and grab your stuff."

She raised an eyebrow but shrugged instead. What he just did, that wasn't human. Anyone who can disappear like a chameleon belongs in the abnormal category. Selina witnessed Ivy's plants obey under her every command and make them dance and whatnot, but it wasn't everyday that she met someone who could perform mumbo jumbo.

Instead of grabbing her equipment, she pranced to the evidence room. When she entered, the first table had a corpse covered in a white plastic sheet. _Yuck,_ she thought. She payed no mind to it and opened a cabinet that was listed Double D. She was careful not to ravage anything, her hands flying from one object to the next. _There it is._ Just by looking at it, she could tell that the white diamond was authentic. The room was dimly lit but its pure shine pierced in the depths of the bin wrapped in a ziploc bag. She carefull picked it up and held it to the light, marveling at its beauty.

"Poor thing. Its been a week since you've seen the light of day," Selina cooed, twisting the diamond in every direction.

Seeing as Ivy would want this, she couldn't understand why. This was something that she, Selina, would get at all costs. If she had her way, she'd run with it and stick the finger in Red's face but a deal's a deal.

Selina put everything back the way it was except for the diamond and shut the lights off.

_Now for the hard part._ She hated this but she needed to ditch Sly. His outer character said a lot about him but what lied underneath that was probably something Selina didn't want to get caught up in. So she collected her belongings, putting everything where they should be. Her choker strapped around her neck where her cat eared mask connected and her maroon colored goggles over her forehead complete with her black gloves adorned with retractable claws and her iconic black bullwhip.

I have no choice, she thought bitterly. Something bad is bound to happen and I can't let this handsome stranger get in my way. Whether she liked it or not, Selina pulled her goggles over her eyes and approached Sly.

Cooper was..._reading_? A red bag was around his left leg with a book in his hands. She couldn't see the front cover but the pages of the book looked old and fragile. Maybe he wasn't necessarily reading it but it looked like he was checking for something as he thoroughly skimmed through the pages. His eyes hardened, and he looked really anxious.

When he looked up, she stopped dead in her tracks, her stomach doing cartwheels. Sly observed her like he was trying to read her thoughts. "You...you don't plan on betraying me, right?"

Selina froze. Her heart thumped, and everything around her seemed to evaporate except Sly. Her mouth slightly hung open with her hand on her whip. _If he could turn invisible- Oh god. Did that mean he could read minds?_

This was too much. Too much for her to process all at once. Exactly who is this guy?

Her silence was making Sly suspicious so she coolly said, "No. What makes you think that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Were you paying attention to what I was saying back there?"

"No, I was too busy watching the prisoners." She volleyed back. Was that sarcasm? He couldn't tell. Sly decided to drop it. But a voice somewhere inside told him otherwise.

Gee, Bentley was sure having quite the effect on him.

He glanced down at the man's body, where he had left him snoozing. He snapped his book shut, then put it in his bag and dragged the man's body to the corner. With his to Selina, he pulled out his infamous raccoon shaped calling card, and slipped it in the man's hands along with the key.

Turning around, Selina jumped like she just committed a crime. She recovered by curiously asking, "What book are you reading?"

"The Thievius Raccoonus." Sly said it like the words themselves held some sort of secret power. His face was poise, and his eyes tinted with melancholy. "It's a family heirloom."

She nodded. "You said only Cooper's can...do whatever you just did before."

"Disappear?" He guessed, smiling. Back in his world, almost everybody should be familiar with the Cooper background. He never found himself explaining how he could perform these things. "My family comes from a long line of master thieves. The book carries all the secrets to my ancestor's. Their abilities, skills, adventures..."

"Hmm." Selina may not look like it but she was impressed. Far beyond impressed actually. She was face to face with the last heir to a family who stole as their main career. She was honored to be in his presence. But she would never say that aloud.

_You could strengthen the Cooper bloodline,_ a tiny voice inside her said.

**Shut. Up.**

"So," Sly continued, "you could say I have a little magic in my blood."

She nodded, with a hand under her chin. "I think your the most strangest man I've ever met before."

"I'll take that as a conpliment." He folded his hands and winked at her. Selina wanted to ask more, like that strange weapon he carried. But she let out a shaky sigh instead.

"You have everything?" Selina asked the question so casually it sounded like they were getting ready to take a vacation.

He was about to nod but suddenly Sly felt a weird feeling in his stomach. He felt like... like he was missing something. He had everything - his binocucom, his calling cards, all of his essential gadgets, even the ring that he was going to propose to Carmelita - except...except his hat.

Sly groaned. "Oh, great."

"What is it?"

Hr sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't have my hat."

Behind her goggles, her eyebrows shot up. "I think you can live without it."

"Ah, that's another thing. It's a family heirloom."

She scowled. "I'm guessing the clothes your wearing right now are a hand-me-down."

His face darkened. _Uh oh,_ she thought. Sly Cooper seemed like a nice guy but she wondered what he'd be like if you got on his bad side.

His face then fell. He just realized who had his hat along with his mask.

"I know who has it."

"What?" She asked but he was already heading for the door. She snagged his arm. "Whoa, buster, where are we going? Window's that way." She jabbed her thumb to the other side of the room.

Sly hesitated. He looked like he was gonna be sick. "You can go." And with that, he ran out the door.

Selina just stood there, mystified. She pushed her goggles up on her forehead, and rubbed her eyes. Her green orbs found its way to the window where the outside safety beckoned her. She bit her lip, her eyes darting from the door to the window.

"You are _so_ going to regret this, Selina." She said, and she ran out.

Cooper was running.

And whether people, noticed him or not, Selina could tell that he didn't care. When a bystander was on the verge of calling for backup, she took out her whip and left them dazed, and proceeded to follow his trail.

Sly ran faster than she anticipated, running like his life depended on it. All for a stupid hat, she thought. Sly dashed straight for the dining area and yelled over his shoulder, "Come on, Selina! I thought you were faster than that."

He ran to the next room while she skidded to a stop, putting her hands on her thighs. She breathed heavily and coughed, she never felt the need to run like this before.

What was she doing? Running around where she probably could get locked up in a more despicable prison when the chance of escapism presented itself was ridiculous.

No, another side of her said. Something - some rational part of her conscience - urged her to pursue this absolute stranger. The handsome stranger with silver hair who can turn invisible. The one who made her insides tingle whenever she saw his dimpled smile.

I'm going crazy, aren't I? But what did it matter? He did his deed and that was all she could ever need. Five minutes ago, she dwelled on the idea of betraying him, and yet she chose not to.

It must be the heels, she thought frowning down at her boots. Three inches of support were killing her but she had plenty of practice to run well in them than the average women. She glanced around, expecting a few spectactors when her eye caught a camera in a corner to her left.

Her lips curled in a devil smile, with her left hand wiggling her fingers. She blew a kiss and cracked her whip at the camera before she ran out the room.

She didn't need to activate her Thief Mode to locate Sly, she just needed to listen to the mob hurdling over boxes, flipped desks et cetera. She took a shortcut when she spotted Sly rounding the corner. When Selina caught up with him, she said, "I thought we were going for subtlety."

As he ran, he shrugged. Another person got in their way and yelped, stepping back. They kept running and heard the pounding of footsteps behind them.

A voice boomed behind them. "Get back here!"

"Oh, yes. Because that's going to work." Selina muttered.

Sly laughed. He was obviously enjoying the fact of being chased in a a building full of cops. Something told her that he must have went through something like this before.

Realization on why she hadn't betrayed him struck at her hard like a wrecking ball. Sly was daring. He acted accordingly to things and kept a confident head. No matter what went in his way, he did his best to deal with it. He laughed in the face of danger and encouraged it to face him. Because he knew he could handle it. Not in the arrogant or proud way but more along the lines of spirited and fearless. After all, what's life without a little risk?

Screw stealth, Selina thought, a smile gracing her features. This is so worth it.

Sly didn't know how but he managed to find his destination and shake off their followers. It was mostly thanks to Selina and her whip. She kept close to him while he maintained placing obstacles behind them. He was really grateful of her.

When they burst into Renee Montoya's office, the female detective's head was rested over a pile of paperwork before she was jolted awake. She looked stunned and realized what was happening when she saw her two intruders. Her hand reached for the pistol she kept in her drawer but a black cord wrapped around her arm.

"Morning, Renee." Sly greeted, throwing an approving grin in Selina's direction.

"What are you doing, Conner?" Renee asked in disbelief, though she glared at him. Her tiny hands balled into fists, the paper in her hands crumpling.

"Just taking back what's rightfully mine." He sauntered over to her sofa and spotted his hat. Inside the blue cap, his black mask was folded neatly. He grinned at Montoya. "Looks like you really did hold onto this. Merci Beaucoup."

Sly put down his cane to wrap his black mask around his head. When the knot was tied, he straightened his hat before returning it to his head. Satisfied, he nodded at Selina who pulled back her whip and expertly flicked it at the window. Glass shattered and sprayed across the floor, several even hit Sly on his arm but he pricked it off and wiped away the dots of blood.

Selina went out first, trying her best to avoid the pointed tips of the window. While Renee was too stunned, or scared, to bring out her gun and aim it at him.

Sly smiled at her, his teeth glistening. "Pleasure doing business with you, Renee." He tipped the brim of his blue cap, and blew her a kiss then disappeared out the window.

* * *

><p>"So," Sly said as he twirled his cane, "Is this the part where we kiss goodbye?"<p>

The duo found an empty alley and blended in with the shadows. Selina's goggles were activated, so she perfectly saw his face. But she couldn't say the same for him. The alley reeked of dirty gym socks, mixed with trash that looked like it had been sitting there for years. She did her best to ignore it and focus on her partner.

Behind her goggles, she rolled her eyes. "First of all I don't go around and just kiss anybody. And second," She paused. "I'm not exactly saying goodbye."

Sly blinked. "Oh yeah?" He was exhausted. A good night's - er, morning's - rest sounded like a blessing right now. He didn't dare think about sleeping in this kind of environment. He wanted to lean against something but there was no way that was going to happen. The wall of the buildings looked so revolting, Sly was scared it would swallow him through its repellant appearance.

Selina nodded. "From the looks of it, you don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

"You're right," he admitted. "I don't."

She hmmed, and scratched her chin thoughtfully. "But like I said, I'm not the kind of girl to bring a guy home after I just met him. But I do have a friend's house you can stay. I just need to convince her."

Sly thought for a moment. "Does this person happen to be that Red chick you mentioned earlier?" Selina sighed and nodded. It wasn't long before they heard sirens piercing through the air.

"Well, let's get a move on, shall we?" Selina lashed out her whip to the fire escape and jumped to safely land on the railing. "Try to keep up."

Try to keep up. Why did that sound so familiar? Oh right, that's because Neyla said the same thing before she showed her true colors. Sheesh, not only does Selina look like her but she's beginning to act like her. How could this day get even more twisted?

Sly shook out of his reverie and jumped on a trash can. He double jumped and grabbed the ladder to haul himself up. He then ran up the stairs and caught up with Catwoman.

When he reached the rooftop, Selina was already running to another building. Sly shook his head but he went after her like a moth to a flame.

He could feel the air rushing past him, his adrenaline pumping, the police sirens motivating him to run even faster. His feet crunched over the the snow, the cold air biting at his cheeks. When he came across a much more taller building, he watched Selina flick her wrist and pounce to the roof. Instead of following her example, he free falled for a couple of seconds and climbed on anything he could grab on.

Selina didn't wait for him nor did she glance back to check up on him. Sly decided to pick up the pace despite the burning pain in his stomach.

"What are you running from?" Sly teased, as he finally caught up with her. "I'm not that ugly, am I?"

Selina laughed. She looked genuinely happy. But when they both ran to the next rooftop, she collapsed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sly grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her knees. One of her leg knelt while the other was directed elsewhere. His hand felt something sharp on her shoulder. Then Sly found the dart pinned through her leather suit.

"I feel dizzy." She said, breathelessly. Sly bent over her, his goldish eyes filled with concern. "I... I don't know. I-" She stopped when her emerald eyes darted away from Sly's fixed stare. Sly wondered what she was looking at and his eyes flared.

"Son of a gun..." Sly managed to say. He pulled the dart from Selina's shoulder, and threw it away in disgust. Sly stood up and put his hands on his hip. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your mug here."

The dark man encased in a flowing ankle length trench coat stared back. The collar of his coat was pointed outwards and his shoulders were hunched. The tips of his sandy blonde hair was sticking out in odd directions. He was adorned in black clothes with shoulder pads, and the only skin that was shown was the base of his collarbone along with a crucifix. He leaned against the chimney with his hands jammed in his pockets. His dark orbs was covered behind a pair of sunglasses and his expression showed no other emotion besides boredom.

"That dart was meant for you."

"You should really work on your aim." Sly responded, folding his arms. "Why are you here?"

"The only reason why I was around was so I could break you out." The intruder simply said. The words were spoken in a hushed whisper and his lips barely moved but Sly could hear him loud and clear.

Sly snorted and crossed his arms. "Oh, sure. I'm totally convinced. Let's go have a beer and just forget the fact that you betrayed me last night."

Silence.

Steven didn't respond immediately, his face remaining emotionless. "Seeing as that was my last dart, I'll be on my way." He straightened up, and turned around. Sly noticed that he was carrying a sword, its hilt poking out of the case.

"I'm not done with you yet." Sly took a step forward, his hand itching to strike at the traitor. He might be on the other side of the roof but Sly was pretty quick. "You came here for a reason. If it's about Neyla, then tell her to come fight me herself. Not send one of her henchman to do her dirty work."

Steven's jaw clenched. Boy, when Sly tried to tick someone off, he really did the job. "Your time will come, Sly Cooper" he said. "Neyla has plans for you."

"Where is Neyla?" Sly asked, plainly. The master thief relaxed somewhat and placed his cane on the gravel and leaned against it. "Wallowing in her hideout? Ranting evilly like some deranged maniac about this special plan she's got cooked up for me?" He wiggled his eyebrows, as one side of his lip tilted up. He could picture it happening, so he laughed.

Steven still had his back to him but his pale skin glowed. "I have no time for you."

Sly had no time for this either. But he had a score to settle and the opportunity was open. "Why run and hide like the coward you are?" Sly countered. "Let's end this. Right here, and right now."

If he was angry, Sly couldn't tell. Steven's expressions were always shown through those dark eyes of his.

"Sly." Selina hissed. He forgot that she was standing - well, she was actually kneeling - there. Sly ignored her, his eyes never leaving Steven's.

"If you insist." The younger man said calmly.

Steven was fast. The distance between them soon closed as Steven pulled out his sword from behind and clashed it against the master thief.

The two swung their weapons at each other as their duel continued to play out like a sword fight. They were times when the tip of the blade came dangerously close to cutting Sly but plenty of unlucky souls have had the honor of tasting the experience of getting hit by Sly's pure gold cane.

Sly's crosier kept the blade from slicing him in half, and pushed it away. Steven skidded a few feet away as Sly sprinted over to his position, and managed to get a few whacks. A deep growl came out from the back of the younger man's throat who lashed out at his adversary.

Sly parried his attacks by hitting the base of his katanna, while backing up. He flipped sideways, where his sensitive ears ringed with the whistle of the blade and felt the impact of air whoosh past him. The master thief jumped and somersaulted just for good measure before slamming down his cane at Steven's head. The impact would have cracked his skull open but Steven only staggered back, his empty hand clutching his head.

"I didn't know you were hard headed." Sly mused, twirling his crosier. He was caught off guard when he fell on his back after being kicked. Sly groaned as the side of his head writhed in pain.

"I guess that makes two of us." Steven walked over to where he lay and stood over Sly. The blade gleamed deadly in the dark as it hovered over him, just inches from his throat.

The katanna was pried out of its wielder's grip by a black bullwhip. A blur of black appeared as the figure knocked Steven aside.

"What took you so long?" Sly teased, as he sat up. His fingers found his way to his cane and stood up.

"You're lucky I'm going easy on you." Steven growled, before coughing. His sunglasses was knocked aside, the pieces shattered on the gravel. His black eyes glowered at the duo.

"You call that easy?" Sly taunted. Selina wordlessly stood next to him with her jaw clenched, clutching her shoulder.

The younger man grunted while he stood to his full height. Steven shook his head in distaste. "People like you will never learn."

"I hope your talking to yourself." Sly spat back.

Sly could see Steven's black gloves tighten when he balled his fists. Steven switched his blade to his other hand and reached behind him only to grab an exact replica of his sword.

"Never hurts to have a backup." Steven muttered.

"Two swords. Big deal."

They lunged at each other except Selina who believed that this wasn't her fight but she didn't plan on abandoning Cooper. Besides, she wasn't in the best condition to do so. And her best shot of getting to Ivy's place was in the hands of another thief.

Sly vaulted backwards as both blades aimed at his head. Even though Sly admired his resilience, he didn't want that sword maiming him. Sly kicked some gravel in Steven's face and smacked him with his cane when he was busy coughing.

One sword went to jab Sly's abdominal, the other was positioned to slice his shoulder. Sly barely had time to register the pain that pierced at his skin. The master thief winced when his left hand grabbed the blade to prevent it from hitting his shoulder. His cane blocked the one going for his stomach.

Steven thrusted his swords forward. The one that Cooper carelessly clutched in his palm had fresh blood running down. He pressed even harder which made a line of red liquid slide even faster down his katanna. Steven pulled away, examining the blood gushing down and pointed both at his opponent.

Sly gulped, his chest heaving up and down. Steven's hardened expression mocked him. With dual blades, he wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Sly wiped his temples with the back of his hand. Steven came at him slowly, his swords dragging and scraping the gravel at his sides. He raised both blades but Sly backfliped just in time. Then he balanced on one foot, raising his cane until it was radiating a bright yellow light. Sly then crouched where his cane electrocuted a blue spark and began to spin around. The azure light followed his cane as he spun faster than the propeller's on a plane.

It's time he ended this.

Sly was about to perform the final blow when he felt a hard kick on his lower back.

"Enough!"

The shriek which would unmistakably be assumed as a woman's, in fact, did not come from Selina which made the situation all the more confusing. Although, it did make things a little more interesting. Quick headcount: a cat burgular, a raccoon-ish master thief, the white version of Blade, and finally, the party crasher was revealed to be a ninja.

Because the four figures occupying the rooftop in early morning hours were dressed entirely in dark clothing, it was difficult to perceive who was who thanks to the shade from a tall skyscraper standing adjacent to the group of strangers.

Steven looked like someone had slapped him. He gaped, his dark eyes blazing with shock, both his swords lay limp by his sides. "Ca-Cassan-"

With lightning speed, the ninja punched Steven twice, knocking him out cold, not allowing him to finish his sentence. Steven's swords dropped next to his unconscious body. The remaining duo stared at her in awe. She glared back, her dark brown eyes assessing them.

Sly wanted to ask whose side she was on but he didn't have all day so he grabbed Selina by the waist and slammed down his cane. Clouds of blue smoke poured out underneath his crosier while Sly half-carried/half-dragged Selina to the next rooftop.

**)-(-)-(**

"You've certainly gotten stronger."

Steven's eyes were empty and lost. His expression usually pained or strained, and his jaw set as if he was thinking something unpleasant. And like always he wore black. After all these years, he still hasn't change.

There were several bumps and bruises from his fight. The crucifix he always wore even looked like it had aged. She can't believe he managed to keep it for so long.

Cassandra stood over him, not bothering to help him up as he sat miserably. In a way he deserved it. She just didn't expect to find him here. Her choice to go after those two escapees wasn't as important as soon as she spotted Steven. God knows when she'll see him again.

Cass had so much she wanted to say. But her muteness always got in the way. She picked up one of his blades, where dried blood was dripping. Her hand automatically reached to her belt for a capsule. She popped it open and poured blood inside.

"You're mad at me." He stated. Cassandra nodded, taciturnly. Her heavy and scrutinizing glare bore into Steven. He gulped, and looked away in shame with his crucifix in his hand. "Is... is she-"

"Yes."

Steven looked up, shock and relief filling his eyes. "You- you can talk. Did she teach you?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "I remember when you couldn't even utter a word back then..." The younger man smiled, ignoring the police sirens in the background.

Cassandra, however, didn't even react to the turn of events. She was expecting to be chasing down two outlaws but he got in her way. So, the flattery didn't even sink in when she already knew what he was going to ask next.

"Cassandra, I have to see her. It's been years since-"

"No."

He sighed, and stood up. Despite the height, they were both well aware that Cassandra could hurt him in more ways than they could count.

"You know you can't contain her." He said, careful not to raise his voice. "Look, I'm sorry for abandoning you but things have changed."

_Have they?_ She thought. _No, your still the same, Steven. Your still craving for revenge. I know you are_.

"There's no getting through to you, huh?" He said, defeated. Steven grabbed his swords and returned them to his case. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a simple white card. "But give me a call, when you can okay?"

Cass looked at him and then at the card, as if it was poisoned. The paper was out of his grasp before he even knew it.

"Goodbye, Steven."

**)-(-)-(**

"Come on, handsome stranger. We're almost there."

"Handsome stranger?" Sly asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"Your not the only one who can come up with the nicknames." Selina retorted over her shoulder. The blaring police sirens were too close to their position that the cops knew what rooftop they were on. Selina blamed it all on Cooper. They would have gotten to Ivy's hideout if he hadn't picked a fight with that guy. She didn't stay mad at him for long though.

"Feeling better already?" Sly asked.

"Yes, don't worry about me." She was about to ask the same thing but the earpiece in her mask rang like a cellphone. "What is it, Pamela?" She said coldly, making sure Sly wasn't listening.

"Hello to you too, Selina." The mockingly sweet tone of Poison Ivy replied, sounding casual and half-hearted. "I just wanted to give you some-"

"No time. I'm kind of busy here."

"I assume your already on your way here." A snipping noise came out from the other line, like a pair of scissors.

"Gee, what else did you figure out?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to know that-"

"Well, it can wait until later." She cut off the connection, and sprinted to the other roof. Sly was already ahead of her. Without warning, he quickly blocked Selina with his arm before she could fall.

Selina's chest ached from the impact and she was about to scold her partner when she saw what he was looking at. "Ah, shit! We're screwed!"

Catwoman began cursing up a storm, sometimes in different languages. Sly understood most of what she was saying but he needed to stop her panic attack. It struck him odd to see her hyperventilating. He never would have thought of her as the panicky type. He admitted that he was screaming inside a little, but somebody needed to stay sane.

Although their situation was clear. Sink or swim. Both literally and figuratively speaking.

Trying to calm down a woman was always a hard thing to do. Sly only sighed when she just pushed him away.

"Cat can't swim!" She yelled.

Sly nervously eyed what lied ahead, as if were a monster. The channel of water was probably wide enough for a cruise ship to pass through if it weren't for the blockage of several bridges.

Sly didn't like it either. Anything involving water, besides drinking it, was deadly to him. He only dealt with riding in a pirate ship (long story) because he wasn't one to complain or fuss over these things. Sly was the "field man." He used to be the only one who did all the field work and he didn't seem to mind. Before, Bentley and Murray were scared of the idea of going out in the open but they eventually pulled through.

Most of the time, Sly depended on his skills, and his trusty cane and the instructions of Bentley who was always miles and miles away. He wondered what his ingenious little friend would have him do if they ever came across this situation.

Above him, the sky was painted a dark blue, the clouds gliding slowly. Somewhere far away, the faint glow of the sun was beginning to merge with the sky. Behind him, the sirens wailing surrounded them and crept closer as the water blocking their path daunted them.

_How did this night become an enemy?_

Sly glanced at Selina. Despondency painted her expression as her hands were clasped over her mouth. The water obviously scared her, because her green eyes were fighting back tears. He wanted to reach out and comfort her but instead his shoulders sagged and he sighed.

"Raccoons can't swim either."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was rushed because of finals and exams and whatnot. But if you don't like it, then review anyway please. **

**I own nothing except Leigh, Steven, Ronald Higgins and the plot. **


	6. Keep Your Eyes Open

_Chapter VI: Keep Your Eyes Open_

Bruce's dreams had bought him to a certain memory. One that he found hazy because the events were hard to remember thanks to his ever troubling sleep deprivation. His best guess on his age was twenty-five. And it was only a few days ago, he had begun training in the temple of the League of Shadows. Ducard - er, Ra's al Ghul - seemed to be giving him a task.

"Is there a reason why I'm being waken earlier than the others, Henri?" Bruce asked, stifling a yawn. He was dead on his feet, shadows forming under his heavy eyes and his knees felt like jelly. Whenever he blinked, it took everything in him to keep his eyes open. So to say, his senses weren't really sharp at the moment but he was pretty sure it wasn't even sunrise yet. He wore the trainee uniform that was lended to him but the armor made him squirm in discomfort. At least, it was keeping him awake but his few hours of sleep seemed to have more odds.

The peach scented candles wafted in the air, prompting for the young man to remain in a attentive stature. To his right, a wooden balcony revealed small decrepit houses and a valley of endless snow. The quiet atmosphere would have put Bruce to sleep if it weren't for the cold wind that whipped violently at him. Behind his headgear, Bruce's teeth chattered.

"Of course," Henri said, his hands behind his back. "Surely, you've heard how more people will be residing here."

"Actually, I haven't."

"In any case," he continued. "more people means it will get a little crowded in here."

Henri twisted his body to direct his attention to the small figure standing by the wooden doorway behind him. His teacher gave a small smile and gestured with his head for the person to come closer.

It was a little boy around the age of ten through twelve. His hair was light blonde and kept untidy, just brushing his shoulders. His eyes were blacker than the night and his skin was a dead pale. The boy's face had no color in them, and it was rather stern and pained as if to ask, _why me_? His dirty clothes were ripped as it hugged his frighteningly skinny body.

The blonde boy blinked at Bruce. The flinch went by noticeably when he glanced all around the room, looking at anywhere but him.

Bruce offered a smile, not that he could see it, but the little boy concealed himself behind Henri's body.

"You'll have to excuse him." Ducard said, patting the child on the shoulder. "He's been shy ever since he arrived here."

Bruce, who was struggling to stay awake, asked, "So what does this have to do with me?"

Henri sighed. His teacher stepped aside, holding the boy by his shoulders. "_You_ are going to watch Sakurai. And make sure he stays out of trouble."

Bruce frowned. Taking care of a child wasn't relevant to his training but he knew better than to question the given task like ask why he needed to babysit a kid who looked like he obeyed every word that was spoken to him. Nor has Bruce had the experience of nurturing a child before.

Where was Alfred when you needed him?

There was something about the blonde boy. His dark eyes looked lost, broken and bottomless. When Bruce blinked, instead of seeing a frail blonde boy, he saw himself.

The image itself caused a shiver to run through Bruce. He gulped, his hazel eyes going from Sakurai to Ducard. "What about his parents?" Bruce absently asked.

Ducard's face darkened and saddened at the same time. Sakurai yelped, a tear escaping his eye. Henri knelt down and whispered something into the boy's ears. Sakurai wordlessly nodded and scurried back to where he came from, almost tripping when he disappeared.

Henri stared down at the floorboards, his face looking like it had aged ten years. Bruce's teacher walked over to the balcony, not at all affected by the weather and stared off beyond the fields of stark white.

"Sakurai's parents were murdered a couple years back." He paused, giving Bruce a sidelong glance. "Sound familiar?"

Just hearing that made Bruce arch his back to a perfect line. His posture was similiar to that of a soldier awaiting for orders. His shoulders tensed, and his feet pulled together. _Now_, he was awake.

"The people we are housing are those who seek our help. Orphans, urchins..." Henri glanced back to see his pupil meticulously absorbing every word. "Some are even family members."

"What about those people over there?" Bruce jerked his chin outside where the restless citizens worked in the dreadful weather.

Henri regarded the villagers for a moment. "We already asked but they don't seem to trust us. The farmers choose not to get involved with anything..._erratic_." A dark shadow crossed over Henri's expression. Bruce didn't seem to notice because his eyes drooped. He was about to fall forward with exhaustion when he caught himself and forced himself to stay awake.

"But enough of that," Henri confided, not sparing another glance to the young man as he walked out. "You are to take care of Sakurai until dusk."

"Yes, sir," Bruce muttered grudgingly.

He could hear Henri yell something at Sakurai. The young man settled to sit on the floor, right in the center of the room. Sakurai stepped back in the room but he was accompanied by a pair of children. Bruce willed himself to move to the side. He rested his arms on his kneecaps, and leaned against the wall.

"Sakurai, I wanna see you practice!" A shrill and high pitched oice said.

For the first time, the blonde boy finally spoke. "...Okay."

Bruce's head hung, but he saw the small pairs of feet gather at the middle. Sakurai, whose shoes were stitched with different pieces of cloth, walked over to the back of the room. The blonde boy picked something up, and rejoined his friends. Bruce assumed the item was a wooden sword.

The little girl's high pitched voice came back, "Wait, wait! You two should fight each other!"

One of the children, who was barefoot, shifted uncomfortably. Some gesture must have been exchanged because the eccentric girl squealed in delight and moved to the other side of the room, just across from Bruce. Bruce looked up numbly, his vision blurry due to insomnia.

The barefoot one was a girl with olive skin and short black hair. Her bedraggled hair covered her face so Bruce couldn't see her properly. She wore ratty clothes that looked like it was fashionable back in medieval times. She positioned herself in a fighting stance while Sakurai raised his wooden sword, a determined look on his face.

"Ready," the ecstatic girl's voice spoke. "set... Go!"

Bruce silently watched, finding it unfair that the girl wasn't using a weapon. He soon found out that she didn't need one. Sakurai kept slicing his sword at her but she swiftly moved out of harm's way. She bobbed and weaved through his attacks like it was a dance. Everytime Sakurai tried to stab her, she sidestepped and contacted her fist with his face. Her arm snapped forward to punch him but it only came inches from Sakurai's face. She performed a double kick and sent it straight to his chest.

The other girl standing parallel to Bruce, watched everything with awe and fascination gleaming in her wide eyes. The fact that children were becoming a bit stimulated with violence would have raised Bruce's eyebrows at this but he was too tired.

The blonde boy grit his teeth and threw his sword to the side. He gave out a battle cry and charged at the girl.

Bruce should have done something because they were both wrestling and rolling around on the ground. Instead, like the lazy ass bum he was, he stayed right where he was. The other girl screamed for them to stop, and tried to break them apart but to no avail. The two children didn't shout anything at each other, just silent fuming as they tumbled, both trying to come out on top.

"Do something!"

Bruce's weary mind was too slow to process that that message was meant for him. He couldn't even register what she said. For all he knew, she could have been talking in a different language.

A sob could be heard aside from the grunts of pain coming from Sakurai. The other girl, standing with her head in her hands, started crying. That was when the two stopped fighting.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to fight," she said, in between sniveling.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Stop crying, please," Sakurai said, his voice starting to crack. He then turned to his other friend. "I'm sorry, Cassandra."

"Please don't fight anymore." The still crying girl pleaded. The three formed a group hug, murmuring promises soothingly as they comforted one another.

Such amity warmed the insides of Bruce. It reminded him of Rachel and the times when they used to run around the house or on the yard. He missed those days. When he was ignorant but in bliss. But mostly he missed her.

For a split second, Bruce looked up and saw the little girl's (not Cassandra) face.

_That girl with the squeaky voice... Is that...?_

That was when Bruce finally found sleep.

**)-(-)-(**

"Are you crazy?"

Sly just watched the calm waves crash into each other before calmly saying, "Probably..."

"How is your proposed plan suppose to get us across? Hmm?" Selina practically yelled in frustration. Her eyes flashed at Cooper dangerously. "Unless you have a boat lying around at your disposal."

Sly kept his cool and said, "Au contraire, Mademoiselle Kyle. There are other ways to get across. So stop freaking out and let me think."

Not charmed but rather horrified upon seeing Sly's nonchalant reaction, Selina averted her eyes from Sly, looking at anything but him or the water.

The memory rushed back to her. Lightning struck, dark clouds rolled by and the heavy rain beated on her skin. Water filled her vision, and before she knew it she blacked out.

Selina remembered the feeling of drowning. Her arms flailed and the water splashed against her, not allowing her to fight back. The water clogging up her lungs, the burning feeling in her throat, and the strenuous effort she exerted. It was her most terrifying childhood memory.

She didn't know what was more worse. Losing her parents, or coming this close to losing her life.

No, she would rather rot in her miserable cell. Over taken by the fear and panic building up, her body trembled and she tried desperately to control herself.

Over the short span of time, Selina witnessed the unbelievable tricks that Sly pulled out of his sleeves. His assets and abilities were far beyond ordinary and they amazed her. But that wasn't enough to convince her. How could she trust him with her life to harmlessly "glide" over the body of water without taking a short swim? Nevermind the fact of how he would be able to accomplish such an outrageous goal.

Her solitary behavior had a heavy affect on it. She was used to being alone. Used to not taking any orders from anyone. Used to only relying on herself. Perhaps Sly was capable of bringing both of them safely across. Again; how he could, she had no clue.

On the other hand, it was his fault. She was silently blaming him for stalling and dragging her into this mess. She was beginning to regret on her decision of betraying him. It would have been so easy. But the topic of "what's life without risk?" came hurdling back.

He was truly clever, this one, Selina thought. She didn't even know what to think. She couldn't anticipate this man at all. And that pissed her off. And she couldn't even figure out her own feelings about him. And that pissed her off even more.

Her absentmindedness kept her so occupied she didn't notice the outstretched hand right in front of her. Her green eyes met Sly's wistful orbs.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered. Everything around them seemed to seize to a stop and Selina was so entranced and yet, scared with his golden brown eyes that she couldn't look away. Her throat swelled, and instead of feeling butterlies in her stomach; she felt bats.

_Oh please, take this away,_ Selina pleaded.

"Do I have a choice?" Miserably, she placed her hands in his, and sighed.

Sly gave her hand a soft squeeze, and pulled her to the parapet. His eyes swept the rooftops, the snow covering most of his surroundings. He spotted a towering building with gargoyles - _Really? Gargoyles? As if this placed couldn't get any more gothic_ - and lead her there. When he squinted his eyes, he figured why because it was a cathedral.

They silently made their way to the gargoyle building. When they leapt from one rooftop to the next, the sirens sounded closer. The blinking red and blue lights reflected on Sly's handsome face. The duo climbed the cathedral, surprisingly still hand in hand.

Selina was thinking about pulling away but Sly didn't let her. He could tell Selina was capable of taking care of herself but he wasn't about to let her pride get the better of her. Carmelita never wanted to admit it but sometimes she played the role of the damsel in distress. And Sly, being the gentleman he was, would be her knight in shining armor. Corny as it sounds, but Sly felt obligated whenever he saw a pretty girl in trouble.

When they reached the top, he still didn't let go of her gloved hand. Besides, he knew she was scared.

Sly was no brainiac mathematician like Bentley, but judging on the height of the church it would probably bring him across if he used his paraglider. Put enough speed, the velocity would be sufficient enough to glide them harmlessly over. Now put the weight of two people on his paraglider and, with a tremendous amount of luck, it was safe to say that they could make it. But he wasn't going to guarantee that they weren't going to get their feet wet.

"Okay, here's what we do," Sly said, trying to keep his composure. "When I count to three, we jump." Much to his surprise and delight, she didn't argue. Sly reached in his bag to pull out his thin blue paraglider. Hopefully, it would carry them across safe and sound. Sly gave Selina the handle while he gripped the other. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she reluctantly did the same.

Sly glanced at her, a wave of sorrow and pity hitting him. He was just as scared as she was. Although he wouldn't say it aloud, but he'd rather drown than go back in the hands of the law. It wasn't going to help. What with Selina panicking, and the fact that Sly wanted to hear his turtle friend give him advice from the earpiece, it was stressing him out.

Sly looked back, the sirens getting dangerously closer to them. He shook his head, now was not the time for second guessing. Sly guided her to take a couple of steps back so that they could build up speed and momentum.

"One," Selina closed her eyes, a death grip on the handle.

Sly gulped. "Two." The trapdoor behind them banged, trying to burst open. The door opened and a gunshot went off.

"Three!"

Everything went too fast and yet slow for Selina. She didn't remember running. She didn't remember jumping off the church. All she felt was the wave of nausea that hit her during it all.

She was weightless, hanging in midair, only being supported by a thin paraglider. Sly winced when her hand tightened around his waist.

The feeling was both frightening yet breathtaking. She felt free.

And she couldn't believe it. There they were. Right about to plunge into their deaths.

"Pull up your feet!" Sly ordered. Selina obeyed and prayed to whatever god that was watching over her.

Just as Sly predicted and feared, their combined weight made them descend faster. Selina panicked, but she stayed frozen in place. They were almost there. Just a few meters until they hit sweet land. Selina could imagine herself kissing the earth.

She never got the chance. Her black boots made contact with the raging waters. Selina was in neck deep when her body went rigid. Hydrophobia washed over her before the water even consumed her whole being. Darkness engulfed everything around her. The feeling of something tight and firm was all she felt before she closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry about not updating. I feel so terrible. I'm already working on chapter seven so expect that. Sad to say, it will focus more on Sly and Selina. But chapter eight is where things will really start to kick in.

Am I making the characters OOC? For example, what about Selina? Tell me what you think.

Never hesitate to review. I'm always eager to hear your thoughts even if it's critical or harsh.


	7. Conspirative Entourage

_Chapter VII: Conspirative Entourage  
><em>

Sly has had the pleasure of drowning before. He had so many near death experiences when he was a thief and a cop that he'd grown accustomed to it. Drowning always seemed to keep him in a daze though. He had to remind himself that his pals weren't there to pull him out of this one. Of course, he would easily be able to jump out in time under certain circumstances but given that he was injured, and that he flippantly put a woman's life on the line, well, he couldn't really do anything except let the water swallow him.

Selina already blacked out when they touched the water. Sly had a feeling she didn't faint because the water was freezing cold. He went to Canada before in the winter and he wouldn't even look at the water or so much as dip a finger in it just for a second.

He felt like an evil snowman had crawled its way inside him and touched his spinal cord. It was unpleasant. Fear embodied him as he froze from the chill that seemed to be working its way through his entire body. It took everything in him to shake away the sensation and get a grip of his current situation.

Sly held some air and even puffed his cheeks just for good measure. The master thief envied the fact that the forming bubbles floated upward like it was a damn balloon. No matter how many times Sly blinked he saw nothing but endless black. Though he was pretty sure he saw an empty Dominos pizza box swarming around along with some other foul items.

The vice-like grip he had on the woman that weighed him down only tightened. Sly wasn't as strong as Murray but he was always persistent when desperation came to call. Luckily, he found the strength to swim up to the surface with one arm. Though every time he paddled, his insides screeched with unimaginable pain. He suppressed the scream in his throat by biting his lip. He soon tasted something copper and dry in his mouth and realized that it was blood. Defying the water was like trying to fight back the forces of an entire legion single-handedly. The water made it harder for his arms to move and his will was beginning to slip away.

But Sly showed no sign of stopping. His head felt like someone had taken a ton pound hammer and started hitting him with it. His lungs burned with every intensifying moment he wasted under the treacherous waters. His vision was hazy and the drowsiness was begging him to submit. But he kept going.

It felt like an eternity but he broke out of the water. Sly grasped as much air as his lungs would allow. Selina, literally on the other hand, had her mouth opened reminding Sly of how Murray slept. Seeing her like that amused him and he would have his binocucom out in a flash if it weren't for the ordeal they were in.

He reached the ledge and gripped the edge of it. His muscles tightened when he hauled himself up, his other hand still wrapped around Selina's wrist. With every bit of strength he had left, he pulled Selina and pushed her to land on the ground. Sighing with relief, he waited until he could pull himself up.

Taking deep breathes, Sly looked around and was glad to see that his cane and his bag had landed on the earth when he had thrown it. He lost his family heirloom before and he was willing to protect it by all costs. His knees buckled and he bent over Selina's form. Hesitantly, he removed her mask and brushed aside her dark wet hair. His hand went over her chest and his heart stopped.

Her heart... it wasn't beating.

Sly placed his hand to her neck, and counted for thirty seconds. He didn't feel a pulse.

Sly was helpless. He doubted that he could just waltz into the nearest clinic without raising suspicion. He didn't even know where the nearest clinic was, much less he wasn't one hundred percent sure he could get there without fainting from exhaustion. He sure as hell wasn't a doctor even if he had to disguise himself as one a couple of times. He knew nothing about medical procedures, and forget about saving someone's life. Without help, he couldn't even save himself.

Quickly, Sly pinched her nose while his other rested on her stomach. Slowly, he leaned down and blew air into her mouth. After that, he put his ear to her chest. He almost jumped with joy to her heart rate pick up. Thus his routine continued, and he was grateful that no one stumbled upon them. Sly's mouth pressed against hers for what seemed like the twentieth time when her chest finally rose. He pulled back but he wasn't fast enough to dodge the fist that connected with his cheek.

Sly shook his head, trying to blink away the stars.

Selina coughed, spewing out water. She tried to sit up but Sly stopped her.

The femme fatale glanced at her partner who was rubbing at the bruise on his cheek. "Sorry," was all she managed to choke out.

Sly blinked at her. He didn't comprehend what she said until he saw her sent him an apologetic stare. Sly shook his head, but he chuckled. "Tell that to my jaw."

Ignoring him, she feebly said, "Sly, the plant..." Sly's eyebrows furrowed in bemusement. The woman slowly raised her arm, her index finger pointing at the lined up warehouses. His eyes followed to where she was pointing and he could see a gardening tool shed from where he was.

Sly didn't know what good gardening tools would do but if she thought that would help them, it was better than what Sly would have come up with. The master thief sighed and nodded. He hooked his cane to his belt and retrieved his bag. After watching Selina drift back to unconsciousness, he picked up her up and headed for the shed.

He didn't very far because he heard the sound of heels coming his way. His head snapped up as the intruder sprayed something on him. Sly tried to cover his nose but he was too late and he ended up doubling over. Selina fell out of his arms with a thud while he clutched his burning throat. He tasted gasoline and the pain in his abdominal tripled a hundred times. His hunched form tried to subdue everything that was eating at him but when he heard his own bloodcurdling scream rip through the air, his shoulders slumped and he fell.

Everything around him blurred. The last thing he saw was a dark figure and a green silhouette.

**)-(-)-(**

"What!"

"I tried to tell you, Selina," Ivy said offhandedly, her expression emotionless. "I believe your exact words were that it could wait until later before you cut me off."

Disgust and pure fury was clearly shown on Selina's face. "So there was no point in this?" Selina said, gesturing to the fake diamond lying on the kitchen table.

Pamela was tending her plants, holding up a watering can to nourish her various flowers, shrubs, trees, and herbs with her back to Selina.

Selina never had the issue of having to keep her temper in check but Ivy's lack of empathy was really beginning to frustrate her. When you yell at someone, you expect them to yell back or agree with you in hopes of calming you down. But Pamela's tendency to act indifferent never helped.

Ivy kept working, and with her eyes still focused on the small brandy wine maple tree, she said, "I'm afraid so."

Selina's nails dug into the wooden table. 'Your telling me this on such short notice."

Pamela shrugged, her straight red hair falling off her shoulder. Seeing that was Selina sacrificed was for nothing and that this no-good, lazy, green bitch was acting casual about it, Selina grabbed the diamond and hurled it across the room.

"Eek!" The crystal shattered into a million shards when it made contact with the wall. A platinum blonde woman with baby blue eyes stood up with her hands over her head like she was expecting the ceiling to crumble. Even if it did happen, Selina was amused to see that that was the first thing Harley would do.

"Jeez, Selina! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Maybe."

Harley shook her head at her, along with shooting her a disapproving look. The blonde's platform shoes echoed loudly as she walked over to them and took a seat. "If your really angry, then do some yoga. It's not good to just hurt people when your upset."

Selina snorted and raised her eyebrow at the blonde. "And I'm getting this from someone who killed innocent people in cold blood."

Harley pouted and tossed her hair over her shoulder with her hand. "Well, at least don't hurt your friends. Next time, try to channel that anger towards your enemies."

"We're not friends," Selina stated sharply. "We're colleagues. And don't tell me what to do."

Harley shrugged. "I'm sorry, it's just who I am! I'm a psychologist!"

"Was."

Harley sighed. "Whatever. Anyway, wanna know what I found in Sly's bag?" She asked, her eyes darting from Selina to Pamela. Ivy ignored her, too busy caressing a delicate flower.

It was eleven am and Sly was still asleep. Pamela made sure that the herbs she used on him were going to prevent the toxic from spreading but Selina wasn't convinced it would be enough. He took a nasty hit and Selina demanded Ivy to apologize once Sly woke up. As they were speaking, the man himself slept above the group of woman. Every hour, Harley would change his bandages and see if the poison hadn't killed him.

Selina was about to berate Harley on going through Cooper's stuff but reminded herself that they were criminals. So that meant, they had no right to privacy. Even if they weren't outlaws, she was sure Harley would peek through a stranger's belongings anytime.

Harley made a dramatic pause. She was getting excited and jumpy like some crazed fangirl. Finally, she said, "I found a ring!"

"Whoop–de–fucking do." Selina said dryly.

Harley gaped at the woman sitting across from her. "Hello, Selina! What if this ring is meant for you?"

_I wish._

_Oh shit, did she just think that?_

Leave it to Harley to add more drama into her life. The blonde acted like she was living in her teens, and even dressed like it was summer. It was twenty degrees outside for crying out loud! Even though they were tucked safely inside, away from the hazard temperatures late October had to offer, she was draped in a red tank top and jean short shorts. Pamela was wearing a green turtle neck and she still shivered underneath that.

Selina wouldn't qualify her as the dumb California blonde type. Harley was much smarter, and violent, than anyone would her give credit for. Her psychology classes also helped her in studying the human mind, so Selina had to be careful with what she said.

Selina played it cool by rolling her eyes. "I told you, I just met him."

"Are you sure?" Harley coaxed, grinning as wide as the Joker himself.

Selina glared at her, her green eyes saying, Don't go there. Harley raised her hands in surrender, her smile still on her face. "Okie-dokie. Whatever you say."

"Well," Ivy interrupted, after she was done watering her garden. "Harley, you should help Selina get ready." The redhead turned to Selina, a smug grin gracing her features. "You can bring your boy toy if he wants to tag along."

Harley's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, that's right. I need to do your makeup-"

"I can do it myself." Selina interrupted. "You're no good at it."

"-and put on your wig, then help you put on your dress. And then you'll be ready for the ball!" Harley finished with a huge grin.

"It's not a ball, you dolt." Selina hissed. "It's Wayne's Halloween party."

"Same thing. Come on!" The ecstatic blonde woman grabbed her wrist and dragged her to another room.

Sly woke up after Harley was done pampering Selina. She couldn't believe that disguising yourself could waste six hours but Harley said that it was necessary. The dark haired woman straightened her black dress and grimaced at the stranger in the body length mirror. For tonight's disguise, her wig was a lush brown pulled up in a bun. Her collarbone was bare except for the pearl necklace that lay there. Harley somehow persuaded her to wear contacts which changed her bright emerald eyes to a boring brown. The dress flowed down to her ankles which gave a good view of her black heels.

And to top it off, she was gonna wear a headband with cat ears and a mask to go along with it.

Sneaking into a party with Gotham's finest and half of the police force was considered crazy. Bruce Wayne's Masquerade party will be packed with cops so if no one had the slightest idea of who she was then she would officially confirm that Gotham was mostly inhabited with idiots or that Harley was a genius at making the disguise.

So when Sly came down the stairs, shirtless, bandaged and looking like he just had a bad dream, he didn't even recognize Selina.

"Who's this?" he asked to no one in particular.

Selina raised her eyebrow in amusement. "It's me, Sly."

Sly must've thought he was still asleep because he rubbed his eyes and blinked. "Selina? You look _different_."

"I'm wearing a wig, relax." She rolled her eyes, and then sent a playful smile his way. "Why? Do you think I look ugly?"

Sly looked her up and down, his face impassive with his arm guarding his torso. He gave her a crooked smile before saying, "Not at all."

When Sly made it the bottom of the steps, his face paled and he had to grip the banister to remain stable. Dark circles were under his eyes, his silver hair was in disarray, and his lean and muscular body had several cuts and bruises with a few faded scars running along his arms. He looked like he had gone through hell but overall Selina could tell he looked okay.

"How long was I out?"

"Approximately fifteen hours," Sly's face fell, but he shrugged it off. "How's your jaw?" Selina asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sly's hand reached up to rub the sore spot on his cheek, right above where she had hit him. "Better than before. But it's not me you should be worried about. How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said. Sly didn't look convinced. His eyebrows were scrunched, and his mouth was set in a straight line. Selina smirked, and said, "You know, you look cute when your worried."

Sly gave a weak smile and chuckled.

To Selina's left, Pamela tapped her foot impatiently and said, "If you two are done flirting, ask your boyfriend if he wants to come."

When Cooper glanced at Ivy, he tilted his head curiously. The redhead narrowed her eyes, obviously trying to intimidate Sly with her set of green eyes.

"You're... green." Sly said like it was the most obvious thing.

Pamela rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "No, your just color blind." She shook her head and walked towards him. Ivy put her hand on his shoulder and sent him her bone chilling, sadistic smile. "Sorry for almost killing you."

Before stalking off into another room, she squeezed his bruised shoulder which Sly winced.

He was gonna have to thank Selina for saving his life. Red had misunderstood their situation and poisoned him, probably out of habit. If it hadn't been Selina, the poison would have gotten to him by now.

Cooper had his mouth slightly open. He glanced at Harley then to the direction of where Ivy went, and then back to Selina with a huge smile. "I'm surrounded by beautiful women. I must be dreaming," he said, nodding approvingly.

Selina laughed, shaking her head while her cheeks turned red.

"Is that...?" Sly asked, his voice trailing off.

"Red?" Selina finished. "Yes."

He nodded his head. "How ironic. She seems nice. So, she's gonna let me stay? Just like that?"

Selina pursed her lips. "To a certain degree."

Harley, who was focusing on the laptop seated in front of her, snorted. The blonde sent aside the laptop and skipped over to Sly.

"So Sly, why do you carry a ring with you?" Harley asked, curiously.

Sly winced and rubbed his arm nervously. His eyes fell to the floor, and his cheeks were showing a slight red. "It's nothing," he quickly changed the subject and asked, "So, where are we going?"

Selina crossed her arms, and leaned back. "So, your coming? You don't have to."

"You should go." Harley insisted, batting her eyelashes at him. "There's this cop who's not attending. You can disguise yourself as him."

Selina flashed a warning stare towards her but she ignored it.

After a moment to think, Sly said, "Yeah, I'll go." The man shrugged like it was no big deal. "I've got nothing to do. But where exactly are we going?"

"It's Wayne's Masquerade party," Selina explained. "He's celebrating Harvey's Dent's memorial and the re-opening of his mansion."

Sly nodded but he looked at her like he was trying to understand what language she was speaking. "So, why are we going? To get free candy?"

Thinking back, Poison Ivy promised that the diamond she was looking for was purchased by the host himself. And this time (thank god) Pamela was going to accompany Selina in retrieving the goods.

Some reason, having Sly tag along felt like a bad idea. Yeah, she shouldn't be feeling this way about him especially after he just saved her life. But he was perfect. Too perfect. Or she just didn't want him jeopardizing the mission which seemed unlikely considering he was practically invincible.

Selina opened her mouth but closed it when her eye caught the clock on the wall. "I'll explain later," she turned to the blonde next to her, and said, "Harley, help him get ready."

Obviously eager to get started, Harley grabbed Sly's wrist and dragged him back upstairs. She was taking the stairs two at a time while Sly stumbled and tried to keep up.

"I'm sure Mr. J won't mind you borrowing a tuxedo," Harley said, flashing a smile. "Just make sure you return-"

Without warning, a knife wedged itself between Sly's feet, making his heart jump at how close the sharp object was to severing him.

"It," Harley finished, sounding overwhelmed.

When Sly looked up, a clown stood at the top of the stairs. Sly's eyes met mud brown eyes without hesitation. The clown stared at him with madness and inquisitive in his eyes like he wanted to dissect Sly just to see if he might get something out of doing it.

The clown had war paint on his face which was coated mostly with white. Black paint surrounded his eyes making him look like a panda except for his red lips that spread over the scars on his cheeks which represented a twisted grin. His hair was dyed a messy green which fell in waves down to his shoulder.

Next to Sly, Harley twirled a strand on her blonde hair with her finger. She glanced nervously at both men, like she just introduced two nuclear bombs. It was only a matter of time to see which one would blow up.

"You're lucky I missed," the clown said, licking his lips while twirling another knife expertly in his hand. In the clown's other hand was his cane where the monster's fingers rested on the base in a relaxed manner. "Oh and I don't think I'm fine with you, ah, borrowing one of my suits."

Instead of feeling fear, Sly looked at him with defiance. On a different occasion, this would have freaked him out to the point where he would run with his tail between his legs.

But something inside Sly snapped. Somewhere far off, Neyla was in this city holding one of his team members captive and Sly was still having trouble processing this new world and that Neyla was still alive. He was this close to drowning and dying of poison and let's not forget that he was arrested. And that happened all in one night.

Only once he had the experience of his life flashing before his eyes. His time of dying felt like forever but in reality they were brief. However, in the two experiences that he's had them, they seemed to occur whenever a woman was involved.

Flashing back to nine years ago, Sly and his gang infiltrated Dr. M's base with the intention of getting at least a portion of the riches the Cooper vault had to offer. Long story, but Dr. M suffocated him with some sort of genetic experiment gone wrong and Carmelita had come to his aid. After that, Sly had a concussion but he quickly recovered.

And next, this clown –this joke– was standing in his way, literally and metaphorically.

Sly had to learn everything about Gotham in order to get out of it. He would have chosen his right hand man for the job but Sly was on his own. So if attending this party would make matters much better for him, he will go.

Suddenly, his bruised rib didn't hurt so much. After spending a crazy night in wacko world, Sly was ready to explode but he kept his cool.

"Well, I'm feeling pretty lucky," Sly said, calmly. He bent down and picked up the sharp object, examining the joker design on the hilt. "Nice knife."

Bravely, Sly took the few remaining steps up the stairs and held out the knife by its blade for the clown to take. The clown's eyes never wavered and neither did Sly's.

Sly glanced at his cane, then back to the clown, his jaw tightening. He took back his crosier which the clown didn't move but he watched with profound interest like he might miss something.

"So, what do they call you, hmm?" the clown asked, snatching his knife out of Sly's hand.

"Sly Cooper, master thief," he responded with a smile. He crossed his arms and shifted on his foot. "And you?"

The clown smiled a wicked grin, his scars extending so that he looked like the Cheshire cat. That grin and his malicious expression sent a shiver down Sly.

Then, completely out of the blue, he started laughing. Sly flinched at hearing his hysterical guffaw before taking a couple of steps down. He was never scared of clowns but now he never felt so terrified before. The insane look in the clown's eye, and the fact that he carried knives with him was something maniacally ferocious.

_Okay_, Sly thought, _so this guy must be Mr. J whom Harley had mentioned earlier. J must stand for...joker?_

After calming down, the Joker put away his knives and stepped down to Sly's level. He looked at Sly with humor in his eyes, his yellow teeth showing how much of a madmen he was.

"I like this guy," The Joker said, wrapping his arm around Sly's shoulder. Sly wondered why these people kept touching his bruised shoulder but he made no complaint. The Joker looked around to where Harley was still standing, and asked, "Can we keep him?"

* * *

><p>So did I do good or bad on writing the Joker? Honestly, I think I messed up on his part. Same goes for Harley and Poison Ivy, are they not as you expected them?<p>

I was supposed to write Sly have the Joker with a knife to his throat but then decided against it because it seemed so OOC for Sly.

I do not want to hear anything about The Dark Knight Rises if you plan on watching it. Sadly, a chump like me can't watch it right away because my dad says a lot of people will crowd the theaters so I'm gonna have to wait. But I can be patient.

Review, criticisms, comments, or if you just want to say hi, are accepted. I'd appreciate the feedback on this chapter so I could ameliorate more on my writing skills in the future.


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